Not With Haste
by RightSide
Summary: Rumplestiltskin was not supposed to be daydreaming about his caretaker. He was not supposed to care about her happiness. And he certainly had not expected the jealous rage growing in him at the presence of a dashing young man in the castle. This may be one deal Rumplestiltskin goes back on. Or maybe it's just the push he needs to show Belle exactly how much she means to him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time. I like fiddling with the characters. I also do not own Robin Hood (or the dashing William Scarlett).**

**Rating: T... however, depending on the direction my mind goes about midway through, there may be a few M chapters.**

**A/N: There will be fluff! There will also be other, sturdier things that make up the plot, but I am in love with Rumbelle. This is a fangirl moment pretty much from its conception (I only started watching Once Upon A Time a few days ago). I also happen to have just found out about Mumford & Sons at the same point. Their lyrics will be incorporated throughout the fic. Florence and the Machine will also make an appearance later on. Oh, and as a minor note, I fought a bit with the spelling of Rumplestiltskin. In the end, I stuck to the way it is spelled on the show. Anywho, end of author's note. I hope you like the intro.**

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_From "Lover Of The Light"_

_And in the middle of the night I may watch you go  
There'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown  
There'll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown_

* * *

Rumplestiltskin clucked his tongue as he held his tea before him, fingers splayed as he kept it close. The entire situation was amiss. Yes, he had finally procured a caretaker for his estate. When he went to the Northern Mountains that fateful day, saving some comically small village from being plundered by trolls, he had not given his price thoughtlessly. He had been mulling the idea over for some time, taking pleasure in the idea of ridiculing a noble as he or she polished his treasures and beat his clothing in the washroom. A tortured soul at his disposal, to entertain him in the Dark Castle during the lulls he had in business.

When he saw her, a vision in gold, his eyes narrowed and his interest peaked. She straightened herself in his presence. Squaring her jaw, she looked him directly in the eye without fear. In that moment, that inexplicably small amount of time that she held his gaze, he thought that perhaps that was what he needed in his caretaker. Someone with spark. A woman whose conversation could amuse, whose eyes held fire.

But, as they say, the best laid plans... well, he was standing next to _his _table in the great hall of _his _castle using a porcelain tea cup as a shield. Belle was sitting on said table- something previously viewed as completely _unfathomable_- chattering away about the various baubles she had discovered while cleaning and the memories they produced about her childhood. She spoke excitedly, hands wandering through the air as she reminisced. A stray hair had slipped down and tickled her cheek mid-sentence. It evaded her attempt to swat it away, and Rumplestiltskin gripped his cup tighter.

He was not accustomed to holding his inhibitions in check. The stray hair mocked him. It caught in her eyelashes for a moment, causing her to laugh before she finally brushed it back in place. He had to blink several times, drawing his attention back to his tea. Staring into those depths was easier; it was safe. Chancing a glance back at Belle, at her all consuming smile and vibrant expression, he swallowed hard. Why could he not have chosen a simpleton? A vain, foolish, selfish woman lacking intellect and charm?

That laugh again, only this time he assumed it was at his expense. The sound hung in the air, like the lasting ring of a chime. Her eyes gleamed and her lips twisted into a sideways grin that made his chest tighten.

"I asked, good sir, if I might uncover at least a few mirrors," at his obvious negative reaction- the very thought of the queen spying on these unnaturally easy interactions made his face darken- she continued on quickly, "Perhaps just one. Please, I am used to having someone's help dressing. A mirror would make things so much easier. I can't very well ask you to lend a hand, can I?" She arched a brow and bit her lip, blushing softly.

The image of her undressed, skin bare and exposed before him as he attended her made him grind his teeth a little. Incessant woman. Dangerous, incessant woman.

"No mirrors," he said, voice high and resolved. She looked down pointedly at her fingers folded in her lap, face downcast. The brave smile she wore, just an instant later as she lifted her head to give a fleeting nod at his decision, did not reach her eyes.

Rumplestiltskin pursed his lips.

Something was very, very much amiss. As much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself, the situation was no longer in his control. Her happiness meant something, and it irked him. Rumplestiltskin was beyond kindness. He was beyond granting wishes to maids whose only purpose in his castle was to be a means to an end.

"I could fashion something," he moved his fingers around the edge of the teacup, "Not a mirror, mind you, but something similar to assist you. Might that suffice?"

Belle visibly brightened. She flushed and smiled with a radiance. They shared a quiet, content moment until a stillness came over her. Rumplestiltskin's grin from her reaction dimmed at the sudden apprehension. He felt her eyes burn into him as she sized him up, gaze drifting along his torso unabashedly. Her body slipped off of the table, and she hesitated briefly before she took a few steps closer.

Rumplestiltskin held his breath. She was only inches away, boldly taking the tea from his hands and setting it back on the table before approaching him once more. The curtains were open; the room was too bright. There was a beauty standing so close to him now, and he knew exactly what he looked like. The sunlight clung to his skin malignantly, making him appear slimy, a loathsome cross between man and toad.

There was the memory, the fleeting scene of a woman, a woman oh so long ago, when he had first become the Dark One, when his armor was not yet perfected. She had run a lean, determined hand up the length of his arm, fingers tickling the back of his neck. Her breath had caressed the curve of his jaw as she whispered in his ear of how intoxicating his presence was, that he radiated power. The air about him crackled in response, and when she brought up a deal of the self-serving kind, mouth bent at a snarl as she spun thoughts of revenge and blood and pain in his mind, Rumplestiltskin had not yet become _the _Rumplestiltskin.

He had shivered at her nearness, the nearness of another human being that he had so lacked in the months and years following his transformation. He had allowed her to slither her way close to him, and when he denied her, when he explained that the consequence of her request would be too great- for he was still very new and very much still bearing a shadow of the conscience he had once possessed- she cackled. She scraped her nails harshly across bare skin until she grasped a fistful of hair.

_You're disgusting_, she had said. _If you're not good for a deal, what are you good for? _she hissed, _Do it. Do it, and you can have me. It's the only way a _thing _like you will ever have a willing woman_.

Rumplestiltskin blinked harshly and refocused. Belle was not that woman. Belle was bright and shiny, she embodied goodness. She was strong and brave and true. And as he took in the sight of her then, the way her eyes bore into him in a way that made him feel open- vulnerable, even- for the first time in such a long time, he found that she was not looking at him as if he were a creature to be spat upon. She was careful in her movements, as if she might scare him if she moved too quickly. He smirked inwardly. _Clever girl_. Her hands came into contact with the front of his leather vest, fingers toying with the lacing before they splayed and smoothed over his chest. Rumplestiltskin stared at her in wonder, admiration, but most of all with fear.

Her focus lowered, she took in a shallow breath. There was something alive in the air between them. Something hot and fervent and yet somehow... inviting. She met his eyes slowly, first peeking up at him beneath long lashes. And then, a breath later, freezing him once more with the intensity of her gaze.

"You don't have to be kind to me," she said, giving him a soft smile. When she continued, it was quiet, more for her own benefit than for his, "I never expected you to be kind." Rumplestiltskin's heart swelled. He let out a shaky breath.

"You don't know me, dearie," he said, acutely aware of the way her hands were still grasping his chest. The skin beneath burned from the pressure. It was disconcerting and pleasurable at the same time.

"I know enough. You are not the monster you think you are," she said, and, as if to prove her point, she slid those small, delicate hands back until she had wrapped him fully in her embrace.

Rumplestiltskin shuddered, a movement he was certain she felt given their current proximity. And then, as he breathed in her scent and felt the way her form contoured against him, his resolve crumbled. He gathered her in his arms, pressing her closer- if that was_ at all _possible- and elicited a happy sigh from her lips. This was not gratefulness, or friendship, or a nicety. What this was frightened him until the ache in his chest was throbbing. Rumplestilskin found himself disentangling from Belle so quickly that she stumbled from the loss of him.

Clearing his throat, he flashed his hands before him in a grand gesture, "I must be going, dearie. Deals do not make themselves." He turned to leave the room, taking care not to hasten his strides. He was not running away, this was not a retreat. And when he looked back, a glance that only lasted a fraction of a second , it was not disappointment and longing that he saw on Belle's face as she hugged her arms about herself.

It was not until he was in his study, bathed in the shadows of the room, that he allowed himself a moment to feel. How long it had been since he felt anything beyond distaste and despair, nights of loneliness paired with tired regret. There were sparks racing down his spine, a curious pain in his lungs, and even if there was something to be done about it, he was uncertain if he would want himself cured. All he knew was that walking away had hurt him, that he wished vehemently to see her smile again, that unprovoked chime of a laugh that gave him a flutter and a wisp of what he did not dare compare to happiness.

But, because he was Rumplestiltskin, and because he had never favored the lie- the sheer terror- that happiness was, his thoughts grew far too dark far too quickly. All he had to do was lift his hand to his face to remind himself of the strangeness of him, the monstrosity that he was. The beauty could spin her pretty words all she wanted. He knew what he was. He knew that it was only her bravery, her will to survive, that caused her actions. A beautiful, clever woman like her... she was trying to sift through the layers of him. To find a weakness, or to gain his favor. A curious girl wondering if the title of lover would gain her anything more. A lavish room, some time away from her chores...

An unchaperoned trip to town, perhaps.

He did wonder, though, as he put on his costume- what else could he possibly call the dragonskin jacket he donned so well?- what it would be like if Belle was someone other than a conniving woman, using her whiles to try to gain the upper hand.

She read often. A book in hand and blanket wrapped around as she perched herself in front of the fire, eyes alight with fascination as she turned the pages. If they were- he gulped silently at the thought- if they were _lovers_... Maybe they would sit together instead. A blanket would be before the fire, a tray of tea set out as she read to him. Her voice would be silky, and after the first few minutes the contents of the book itself would hold no sway. It would be her and only her captivating his attention. Coy fingertips would play over the fringe of the fabric beneath them, accidentally brushing against his every so often. But the way her teeth scraped against her bottom lip, the laugh barely perceptible in her voice as she continued on reading, would tell a different story. Every touch would be on purpose.

And then... he sighed, heaving his boot against a nearby chest as he worked the ties... and then he would kiss her. He would place a trembling hand against her shoulder that would cause her to pause, eyes searching his, questioning as always. It had been so long since he'd felt the sensation of lips upon lips, but he knew they would be soft and pliable beneath his. Belle would sigh, a soft, innocent sound that betrayed just how ridiculous the entire picture was. As if a magnificent woman such as she, with all her grace and sincerity, would ever contemplate such a thing.

He was the Dark One. He was the Trickster. _The _Rumplestiltskin, and he was beyond affection, beyond fantasizing about falling into an amorous attachment to some random woman he procured on a deal. Such things bred weakness.

Rumplestiltskin sneered. That settled that. No more daydreams. He collected his things; he put the woman downstairs out of his mind.

As he said before, there were deals to be made. And they did not make themselves.

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**A/N: I have a few chapters written. Hopefully this will be a weekly posting deal, but please let me know how you feel so far. Should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: See Ch. 1**

**A/N: William Scarlett is either the nephew or cousin of Robin Hood in the actual tales. For the fic, I chose nephew. Hope that's not a pet peeve of anyone's. I'm thinking updates are going to happen on Tuesdays and Fridays. I have quite a few chapters done, so why not post, right?**

**Thank you to everyone for your reviews! :)**

* * *

_From "The Cave"_

_So make your siren's call, and sing all you want,  
I will not hear what you have to say.  
'Cause I need freedom now,  
And I need to know how to live my life as it's meant to be._

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He spoke to her of deals before. Of scheming and hatchery, of the prices paid. Never were any of the prizes as grand as what he took from her father, none of them were comparable to the beauty that now resided in his home. In some of the stories she dragged from him, the ones she pulled out through ingenuity and those doe-like eyes, she could not help the look of sorrow that crossed her face for those who decided to deal with him. Men and women swindled out of happiness through subtle technicalities.

He stopped telling her about his deals soon afterwards. That look, that not-quite-judgemental, not-quite-pitying look that she directed towards him... It was not right, not logical, that such an insignificant creature such as her could cause him to feel so low with a single gesture.

But it was there, in the back of his mind, as he approached his next... well... his next victim for lack of a better word. That sense of sadness radiating from her watery eyes and tightened, thinned lips. A muffled voice, buzzing beneath layers of walls, came bubbling to the surface. _Be merciful to the next one_, it said, _become the kind of man she deserves_.

Rumplestiltskin shook off the twist in the pit of his stomach as he approached the clearing. His face was as crooked as he could stand, voice cleared to ensure a maximum amount of discomfort in the event he needed to belt out an unnatural giggle. Oh, he knew this game, and he knew it well. Magic flowed from his fingertips. He caught a glimpse of the man standing in the meadow. He was weathered, with broad shoulders, a feather in his cap. Went by the name of... Robin, was it?

Digging further, seeping his claws into the man's subconscious, he saw images. A man- nay, a boy- tied and gagged. There were wounds, long and deep, covering his body. A poker, made bright red with flame, was about to sear its way into his abdomen. Such pain... such pretty, although rather unimaginative, tortures. A name, he scoured the recesses until he grasped hold of one, clear and ringing in Robin's mind. William. William Scarlett.

"You came," the man breathed, almost disbelieving to Rumplestiltskin's annoyance. Those who sought him out were certain of his existence, but why did they never have much in the way of faith at his appearance at their request?

"You call, I come, dearie," Rumplestiltskin bowed in a flourish of twirling claws and dancing bent limbs. Such things were trifles as well as necessities. His reputation must always precede him. As he stalked forward, the air about him radiating power and a sense of foreboding, Robin was just as perturbed as he should be as he looked upon the beast, the Dark One.

"I want to make a deal," he stated, voice booming with a false sence of authority. Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes pointedly and scoffed, holding a taloned hand to his chest.

"I wouldn't be here if you didn't. Come now, let's not stand on ceremony. Will hasn't much time, you know." Ah, that got the thief's attention. Robin's eyes widened, his jaw quivered, and the pretense of this situation being in his control quaked at the mention of his lost comrade.

"Yes, of course. He was captured during our last raid. I would rescue him myself, but I haven't the time to search. I fear he will be dead soon. I need you to save him and take him to safety. But..." there was a long, ragged breath, "But that's not all."

"It never is, dearie," Rumplestiltskin mockingly laughed the words out with a trill.

"I need time to find the soulless fiends who took him," Robin spat. The Dark One stared at him, slightly confused.

"A deal for that as well, perhaps? I could destroy them in very... interesting ways," he did not fight the giggle that bubbled from his throat at the idea.

"No. No, this is a personal matter. William is my nephew. My men and I, we will deal with it ourselves. But Will, he's still so young. He will not understand why we cannot have him come with us," he paused, seemingly questioning the wording of his next request, "I need to know that Will is safe, that they will not come for him again. I want him under your personal protection. Take him back to your castle, keep him there for a month, and let us sort out this messy business."

Rumplestiltskin's voice was high and his eyes dangerous, "So I am to fetch and coddle him, am I? Such things would come at a very high cost, dearie. A very high cost indeed. We are not speaking of mere trinkets. For this deal, I would require something far more grand."

The idea of this man-child in his castle teetering about, clumsy fingers toying with his valuables without care, sent a chill up his spine. Nothing short of a babe, of an entire kingdom worth of babes, could possibly do for a price. Or perhaps a favor. The most dangerous kind, the type that was unnamed to be called upon at any point in time that the Dark One saw fit. This Robin had quite the future, Rumplestiltskin glimpsed. Yes, quite the future indeed. And of course Belle would be thrilled with the prospect...

Ah, there it was. Rumplestiltskin frowned at his own thoughts. A possessive knot twisted inside of him, a knot that had no right to exist. This Will might possibly be of use. A distraction for Belle so that she might stop following the Dark One's every step, asking leading questions as she polished his things. He'd had enough of her prying, honeyed words and stolen glances winding their ways into his black soul. Yes, this Will might do well to banish her from his thoughts.

"I will give you anything within reason," Robin answered. Rumplestiltskin tsked and waved his clawed, discolored digit back and forth. Within reason, hah!

"Within reason is no guide, dearie. I will do this thing. I will ensure your Will lives and is safe at my estate for the course of the month. In turn, I will collect my prize, whatever that may be, whenever I see fit. That is our deal. The only deal that will grant you what you wish."

There was a moment of hesitance. Robin's eyes drifted to the sky, possibilities flickering across his face. Rumplestiltskin allowed himself another gleam. Robin and his Merry Men, Maid Marian, a castle- an entire kingdom, in fact- and all of the power such entitlements entail. Oh, what he could procure from Robin of Locksley... What a bright future filled with bright things ripe for the plucking.

"Deal."

Rumplestiltskin let out a long, harsh laugh before he bowed in exit. And then he was in a prison cell, grabbing hold of William Scarlett's torn flesh. Glancing at the captors, torturers blinking in surprise and fear at the sight of the infamous Dark One, he had to let out a growl of displeasure. He would have enjoyed himself very much spilling their blood. But, alas, there were promises to keep, and a dying boy in his clutches.

Another wave of magic, and he was back in the Dark Castle. He tossed the mass of blood and splotches of visible bone like a bit of refuse. Belle, obviously having heard the commotion of the almost lifeless body plopping on the ground before rolling into odd angles, let out a small cry of dismay. Her eyes welled at the sight, and she flew to the boy's side in an instant.

"Did you..." she mumbled, eyes searching his pleadingly, "Did you kill him?"

"I saved him," he reveled in her shock, somehow proud of the way she was taken aback at his words, "I'll go fetch a healing tonic. Try to make sure he doesn't bleed out before I return."

He wanted to take his time, to let Belle fuss over the broken body for a while longer, but time actually was of the essence. It was quite possible that the boy was already dead, and Rumplestiltskin was not really to blame. The mighty Robin Hood should have called upon him sooner.

Doors opened of their own accord as he strolled into his study. He tutted to himself as he searched for the tonic. Surely he had one somewhere on these shelves? Yet everywhere he looked, it seemed, there were only poisons. Rumplestiltskin frowned. There was no time to make a tonic from scratch. In the peripheral of his vision a dust ridden drawer left half open in careless haste caught his eye. Blowing so hard against the wood that a cloud of mites and dirt rose up to clog his lungs for a spell, he found a small portion of what he was looking for. Not quite enough to heal him completely, but it would ensure his survival.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if there would ever be a time when he would allow Belle entrance to the solitary space. If only to clean, he added mentally. There was a thick layer of grime on everything. And, while his potions certainly did not expire, he mused that there would be a few ingredients that could be disposed of.

Nearly smiling to himself at the thought, clinging to the illusion for a moment more, he thought of Belle's presence in the room. No work would get done, he knew. She would be far too interested in the contents of each and every nook and cranny. He would return from his deals only to find her cross legged in his seat, face filled with concentration as she attempted to discern his secrets from one of the many books. Maybe, he gave a small chuckle, there would even be a mortar and pestle perched precariously on the arm of the chair. The scent of soot and failure would fill the air. When he finally revealed himself, a disapproving look on his face, she would peer up at him with child-like innocence from the tome and ask what she had done wrong.

Rumplestiltskin shook and purged the image from him. This was getting out of hand.

Appearing once more at Belle's side, he started. She was cradling the boy's head in her lap, weeping softly as she drew her finger across his cheek. Wiping the hair from his brow, she rocked back and forth in an attempt to sooth. There was the sound of bloody breathing and short, pained gasps. Each one drew another sob from her.

"No need to fret, dearie," he tried to console her, producing the vial. She brightened, a hopeful expression fighting through her tears. Rumplestiltskin knelt on the ground beside her, registering the way his knee brushed hers. She was unmoving as she held William, and Rumplestiltskin had to lean so very close to her to administer the tonic. Holding steadfast a minute as he waited for the liquid to trickle down the boy's throat, Rumplestiltskin turned his head towards Belle. She was staring intently at him, lips quivering as she slowly calmed.

"What was his price?" she wondered tentatively, gaze keeping Rumplestiltskin in place. He had to fight the urge to grin at her. Always with the questions, his Belle.

"I didn't give one," he whispered, afraid to break the spell that came over them. He battled with himself. He had to remember all the things this wasn't. This wasn't friendship. This wasn't affection. This wasn't _his _Belle. This was a woman in captivity, only slightly above the station of slave. And none of the this was, or would ever be, what he had so desperately begun to wish it was.

Belle inched closer, a free hand finding his and grasping it lightly. Oh no, he was certain now. Absolutely none of this was real.

"Why not?" she asked, probing. The skin on skin contact made his breath hitch and heart plummet in that glorious way.

"He had nothing I wanted," he explained, uncertain why her face lit so beautifully at his answer. And then he realized the implications in his words. He had nothing the Dark One wanted, _and yet he saved him_. He named no price, and yet there was the battered being lying before them. Rumplestiltskin felt the pang of shame. It was never something for nothing. She thought him a better man than he was.

The next moment was one he would relive over and over in the days to come. Belle lifted herself and placed a soft, gentle kiss on his cheek. Her lips lingered against his skin, and even after, when she was pulling herself away with shining eyes, he could feel the heat of her breath against him. She smelled of sweetness and Earth and tea leaves.

The body beneath them choked and sputtered, eyes springing open fearfully. Belle smoothed her hands over his hair, face, and neck. From her lips spilled forth comforting words filled with promises of safety and rest. Rumplestiltskin glanced down at his forgotten hand, wondering if he had only imagined the way her fingers had rested there only seconds before. The boy, having spent the remainder of his energy shaking beneath Belle's mistrations, lost consciousness.

"Come now, dearie. I'll take him to one of the bedrooms upstairs," he stated the next words rather begrudgingly, "He is, after all, our guest."

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**A/N: Let me know what you think!... Please?**


	3. Chapter 3

******Disclaimer: See Ch. 1**

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! There's not much Will in this chapter, I want to build him up little by little. But have no fear! Jealous Rumple will make an appearance next chapter.**

**Someone asked about the age difference between Belle and Will. I'm not aware of Belle's age, so I'm going to say that he's a little less than a year younger than her. If the show gives me something concrete to work with, I'll give you an exact figure. Hope that helps!**

**I realize the chapters are short (much shorter than most of my fics). I guess I just don't want to continue writing for the sake of filler when I feel like I should have stopped a bit ago. And I definitely don't want to shove chapters together so the continuity feels off. Just bear with me. When the juicy stuff starts up, there will definitely be some longer chapters. :)**

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_From "Broken Crown"_

_Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie_

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He had been overruled.

He, Rumplestiltskin, had been overruled by his own servant. Of all the absurd things to have occurred to him throughout his long life, this made the top of the list.

The boy, William, was recuperating in one of the many bedrooms on the second floor of his estate. But when Rumplestiltskin made it abundantly clear to Belle that the situation was only temporary, that he was to be thrown in the dungeon as soon as he was well enough to not be in danger of suffering a secondary infection from the inhospitable environment, she turned on him in an instant. There was a fierceness to her, a bold fury that left him breathless and floundering. Exasperated with sifting through the haze she conjured round him like the enchantress she was, anger was all he had left.

"Do not, for an instant, think that you have a say in this, dearie. This is not your home. You are not my equal," with every breath he advanced on her until her back was against the stone wall of the corridor. Her eyes darted between him and the doorway of the guest room, as if fearful her patient would wake at any moment and walk in on the scene.

"I-I just..." her words caught in her throat. Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed. She needed to learn her place, and it seemed his nearness threw her off just as much as it did him. For different reasons, obviously. She was being cornered by a beast, a crocodile of a man whose intentions were most definitely not honorable. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in rapid movements. So utterly beautiful in her defenseless state.

"You just what?" he whispered in a hiss, hand coming to rest just above her head, causing him to lean into her, face inches away. The sneer he wore threatened to break at her hesitance, at the way her eyes bulged and body cowered from him. But this was what was best. She needed a reminder of exactly what he was.

"Please." It was a cry, a soft spoken whine, and it ate at him.

He considered his next move carefully. What he wanted to do- _truly wanted_- was to shake her and yell and scream and bite. Tell her that she did not matter, that he did not want her, and cast her away. Then he would race back to his study, tearing open the small apothecary satchel he kept in the top drawer of his desk. Throwing back the drought inside, he would make a contented sigh and wait for the effects to take place. By morning she would be forgotten, her presence replaced by a spotless canvas that would hardly be noticable.

There would be no Belle. No memory of the woman who tested him, whose lips graced his skin with no hint of recoil. There would be no more nights spent fighting the flittering of hope currently invading his chest cavity. He would be lonely, the days following would be dark, but at least he would be _safe_.

However, he found that he could do none of those things. Rumplestiltskin was tired, and there was a woman quaking beneath his hostile, overbearing form. A woman he cared for despite himself.

Lifting himself away, he pulled back from her silently. He could no longer stand her stares, her confused expression and the inquiries that were to follow. There was nothing left but to walk away. After a few paces he steadied himself, certain he was in no danger of racing back to her, kneeling on the cold ground and demanding her forgiveness for frightening her.

"He will be your responsibility," he said, voice weary and strained as he faced the wall; he could not bare to turn towards her again, "I never want to see him, and if he so much as looks in my direction I will throw him in the dungeon. Are we clear?"

There was the sound of movement as she cleared her throat, "Yes. Yes, thank you." Her footsteps were cautious, the heavy door creaked as slipped inside.

"Oh, and Belle," he made a fist and looked over his shoulder, "This is the last request you will ever make." The threat was clear. Her face paled, and she mumbled something that sounded like "of course" before shutting the door behind her.

Every inch of him was shaking. The anger, the raw eruption of emotion that the conflict trudged forth from him, was unanticipated. His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched and his teeth ground in frustration. But despite everything, the way his veins hummed and the desire to hurt something at the forefront of his mind, Rumplestiltskin still found himself slinking away up the steps of the Eastern-most spire. His feet seemed impossibly heavy as he climbed, and when he finally settled in his tower he was every bit the forsaken monster locked within its cavern.

The coldness of the room chilled his bones. A spark borne on his fingertips set the fire alight. Scraping his chair against the hardened stone ground, sending an eerie noise bouncing off the walls, Rumplestiltskin placed it before the fireplace and began to warm himself. The crackling flames cured him of his thoughts. He became lost in the colors and heat, stealing what peacefulness he could before his mind wandered into the realm of cursed memories.

The fear he inspired from his own child. Baelfire's hand slipping. The anger and shame in his boy's eyes at the recognition that his father was too much the coward he had always been to give up his power.

Finding his wife, alive and happy in the arms of the braggart he had believed only a moment before had been responsible for her death. The excruciating knowledge that a life with him had been so difficult to bear that she had abandoned her only child on a whim. And then, a beat later, tearing out her heart and feeling it crumble to dust as he stood before her lover.

Rumplestiltskin sighed.

The way Belle's form had shrunk away from him, the fear and loathing he had always known existed was evident in her face as he invaded the space before her. He had spoken her name aloud for the first time, and the event was tainted by the unpleasantness that preceded it.

Bleakness gave way to productivity. He rummaged through his stock, shuffling from one display of vials to another. He needed to produce more healing tonic. Perhaps some salve as well. Emergencies were bound to happen, and one could never have too much of such useful medicines. The movements were comforting, repetitive motions soothing as he worked. Soon even the air was thick with evidence of his labor.

When he heard it, the gentle thud that sounded in the din, he assumed it was the result of an askew book finally teetering from its shelf. But then there it was again, harder this time. Rumplestiltskin's body went rigid.

Belle.

She would not dare come in uninvited, not after what had occurred earlier. It had been the first time he raised his voice to her. Part of him wished to ignore her, giving proof of his indifference. And yet the rest of him yearned to know her purpose. Was the boy's condition worsening? Would she demand an apology? Glancing down at his hands, paused over his concoction uncertainly, he doubted he would have the strength to deny her if she asked it of him.

When he first took her, stealing her away from all she knew, he swore to himself that he would never allow her entrance into the sacred space. In this moment, however, he found himself in such a hollow state that the importance of that oath was lost on him. He just wanted the confrontation to be over and done with so he could return to his task.

"Co-Come in," he despised the way his voice broke. He despised the way she shyly entered. And he absolutely abhorred the way her expression lacked the characteristic spark he had grown to adore.

Her fragile form seemed so foreign when compared to the mountains of text and haphazardly strewn poltuses. Her eyes drank in the physical embodiment of all that Rumplestiltskin was, and he lied bare to her critique. Such a taxing day this was. If he had the ability to banish Tuesdays from history, he certainly would have considered it if only to avoid more days such as these.

"I couldn't sleep," she said warily.

"Neither could I," was his tired reply.

"I wanted," she frowned pointedly and stepped closer, "I wanted to apologize. You were right, I was wrong to argue with you as I did. This is your home. I should be grateful. I-I know... I feel as though... as though I've taken advantage of your kindness. And for that I am sorry." She pursed her lips, and her eyes pleaded with him to respond.

There were no words he could conjure that could shield him from her. All of the things he had come to rely upon to protect himself from the scrutiny of others fell flat in her presence. He had no choice but to be honest, but that was never truly an option for the likes of him.

"I've been crafting a healing tonic, but it seems I'm not up to completing the task," the way his voice lifted and he gestured towards the heap of ingredients on his station made the invitation clear. It was the best he could do. Penance for his behavior. And his clever Belle understood.

"If you told me what to do, I might be able to help," she offered brightly, bravely coming to stand at attention by his side. Rumplestiltskin guided her through the actions of preparing the ingredients, heating the reagents, and properly setting up the equipment. She was engrossed in the process, an alchemist in the making, although perhaps her fingers were a bit too eager and movements too jilted. Firmly pressing his hand to her forearm, he told her to slow down. There was no hurry. Tonics appreciated it when their creators gave them the time necessary to blossom to their full potential.

She glanced up at him, body resting back against his as her head lulled and she attempted to stifle a yawn, "This may have to wait until tomorrow." Her head nestled into the crook of his neck, and Rumplestiltskin wondered if she realized the liberties she was taking. There was the creeping sensation of disappointment spreading through his limbs. Surely she was not seeking _comfort _from him. And the only other explanation for her actions- the only thing that made _sense _in all of this- was that she was trying to manipulate him. Grief clenched his heart. There was a wonderful lie pressed against his chest. Such a pretty, pretty lie.

But a lie nonetheless.

"I believe you're right," he said dazedly, peeling himself away from her, "Go get some sleep. In your own bed, perhaps? I know it must be more comfortable than the chair in William's room." Belle's face reddened, and she gave an embarrassed nod. She hadn't thought he knew? Of course he knew. She had been nursing the boy for the past two days without pause. The housework had ceased, something she had not asked permission to do. But, he admitted solemnly, she had not really needed to.

"I don't want to push, but I'd like," she bit her lip and reached out to lightly touch her hand to his, "I'd like it if one day we could be friends."

Rumplestiltskin bristled.

"Perhaps," he removed his hand from hers, "One day."

* * *

**A/N: Let me know what you think! I'd love some constructive feedback about what's going on. And, of course, you'd have my undying gratitude. ;)**

**Upcoming: Fluff! Friendship! And, just maybe, a caress. Slow but steady, my friends. Slow but steady.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: See Ch. 1**

**A/N: Thanks for the support! I love reading your reviews! :) The excerpt in this chapter is from the wonderful **_**Great Gatsby **_**by F. Scott Fitzgerald.**

* * *

_From "The Enemy"_

_Give me hope in silence, it's easier; it's kinder_

* * *

It did not take long for Rumplestiltskin to decide that he did not care for William Scarlett any more awake and active than he did when he was merely an unconscious infirm. The final straw, he surmised rather begrudgingly, was on the fifth day of his recovery after he finally regained awareness. Rumplestiltskin had gone looking for Belle. He forgot the reason he gave for seeking her out; whatever it was had been imaginary. He only wished to see her. Ever since William's arrival her presence throughout the castle had been limited at best. Their only encounters had been during meals and tea, and even then they were rushed, conversationless flurries before she abandoned him in favor of new company. It just... well, it wasn't enough.

So he had searched for her, albeit later than usual. She was not in her room, and Rumplestiltskin automatically made his way to William's quarters. But when he arrived, hovering outside the door as he caught the sounds of laughter and warmth radiating from the room, he found himself unable to continue. For the first time since her arrival, he made an attempt to glimpse what was inside. He had never done so before, he reasoned, because he had never cared to waste such valuable resources on someone as insignificant as Belle. But, when he was honest- what a dangerous thing honesty was becoming- the truth was that he had not wanted to invade her sense of privacy. Even then, in the beginning, she had been special.

It felt wrong and sordid, but he longed to know of her behaviors, to see what his caretaker was like when she was not acting for his benefit. He closed his eyes, steadied his breath. There was the familiar sensation of worlds crumbling beneath him. Resting his palm against the frame of the doorway, he waited. He listened. He watched.

Belle was sitting on the bed, shoes tossed to the side. Her hair was untied and a loose set of curls framed her face. Back against the headboard, she had a few pillows supporting her as she read. William- more man than boy in this state- was under the duvet, arm propping his head up as he watched her. It was obvious that he was besotted.

"He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the turning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete..."

William laughed. It was a charming laugh, his smile warm and eyes dancing with mirth. Belle, although seemingly confused, laughed with him despite herself.

"Well, that put paid to it. Definitely fictitious."

Belle immediately stopped laughing, brow furrowed, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Certainly you cannot believe any of this could actually happen. A kiss is a kiss. It's nice, but to say it can make the world stop is a vast exaggeration." He sat up a little as he spoke, nudging Belle playfully with his shoulder. Belle narrowed her eyes in feigned annoyance, shaking her head.

"Are you telling me that William Scarlett does not believe in true love?" she asked, shutting the book with a finger trapped just within the pages holding her place.

"No. No, I don't. Love is uncommon enough. True love is a fairytale," he finished with a coughing spell that had Belle momentarily fussing over him. William held up a hand to signal he was fine and readjusted himself on the bed.

"Well, then," she huffed with a smile, "I feel sorry for you." She replaced her finger with a ribbon and snapped the novel shut with a sense of finality. Turning away from him, she lowered her legs off the bed and gathered her things. Knitting, books, a sack of cloth containing unknown objects.

"Are you really upset, Belle? Come now, sit back down. You have to finish it," he reached out, attempting to snatch the novel from her. She dodged easily and rolled her eyes at him.

"I am not upset, I'm just tired. It's very late," she explained.

"Liar," he smirked, "I'll tell you what, you tell me of one time- just _one_- that you've been kissed and had it feel like it did in that book of yours, and I'll concede the matter."

Belle busied herself with balancing her belongings, "I'm not having this conversation."

"I'm right, aren't I? Come on, admit it," his expression was playful as he flirted.

"I'm a stubborn woman, William. And you're not right," she made for the door. Rumplestiltskin vanished before he could be discovered, but in the distance he could hear the far away calls of goodnight and the less than gentle shutting of the door.

Appearing in the great hall, he shook involuntarily. No more, he promised himself. His first and last glimpse of Belle had told him very little. William was an outrageous flirt, and he pushed her boundaries with the ease of one who was used to getting his way. It bothered Rumplestiltskin. He wondered if in the course of a month William would be successful in his obvious goal of wooing Belle.

He needed to spin. Spinning helped him to forget, and for the moment he needed to forget what he had seen. He needed to forget that Belle had lain on the bed of another man and read to him. But, most of all, he felt the need to forget that when all was said and done, William was not a permanent resident. If he did manage to capture Belle's heart in such a small timeframe, would he abandon her the moment the deal was over? Would she be broken-hearted at the loss of him?

The gentle lull of the wheel took over as he continued. The thread was fine, the straw soft and yielding beneath his skilled, calloused fingers. He spun the same way he had spun for decades on end, the same way he would spin for centuries to come. It was a rewarding task, the golden length growing with each turn. His back was straight, feet planted properly against the stone floor. He did not whistle or rock as some of his mentors had when he was just a lad. Rumplestiltskin was swift and purposeful, at times he and the wheel became one, and during those long moments the hours passed without notice.

When the door to the Western corridor opened and Belle appeared, he did not look away from his work. Curiosity struck, but he would not allow himself to hesitate in his motions.

"I did not mean to intrude," she said, coming to gaze at him through the spindles of the wheel, "Would you care for some tea?"

"Yes, thank you," he answered. When she disappeared through the servants' entrance, Rumplestiltskin let out a breath. He had not meant to say yes. Tea meant a few minutes of awkward banter and the need to find a lie to excuse himself with. He spent the last of his precious time alone spinning as much as he could, knowing that he would soon be finished for the night.

He was still gathering the golden thread and tying it into an organized bundle when she returned, tray in hand. She poured him his cup, and then they sat together upon the table in silence. A newfound habit, it seemed.

"I like this," she stated, turning towards him slightly, "I never thought I'd like the quiet, but I do."

"Ah. Well, quiet is something we have in abundance in the Dark Castle," he paused a moment, considering her words, "I won't say I'm not surprised, though. I thought you hated it." It was true. Belle was never quiet, or even still for that matter. She was constantly fiddling, or humming, or tapping her fingers against surfaces.

"Spending time with William is giving me an appreciation for it," she mumbled, taking a sip of tea. Rumplestiltskin could not help a chuckle and the way his eyebrows raised at her revelation. Noticing his amusement, she tried to take it back, "I shouldn't have said that. It's not as if he's unpleasant. I just wish he would leave things be is all."

"I see. Prying, was he?"

"Yes," she dragged out the word so that her irritation was palpable.

"What did he say that was so bothersome?" he inquired. Nothing he had seen should have elicited a reaction quite like that. She reddened at her openness, at her unladylike response.

"Nothing," she sighed, "It was nothing." She went quiet again, and it was such an unnatural state that Rumplestiltskin wished for once that she _would _speak.

"I'd hate to be branded a pryer myself," he flickered a hand out to dance before him as he spoke, and Belle laughed softly at his antics, "And I daresay I haven't much practice at friendship, but from what I gather a part of it includes something called sharing." He said the word "sharing" lamely, as if it was foreign. A previously unwanted addition to his vocabulary.

"Yes, sharing. I believe I've heard of that," she played along, grin slowly making its way from the corners of her lips.

"So, would you like to?" he scrunched his face, "Share, that is."

Belle scrunched her face to match his.

"He asked me an inappropriate question. He asked me..." she blushed again, eyes fixed pointedly on her teacup, "He asked if I had ever had an extraordinary kiss."

Rumplestiltskin hummed.

"You see, completely inappropriate!" she exclaimed, taking his hum as an affirmation.

"Well, I don't know. I think the appropriateness of the question rests with your answer."

"How so?" she asked as she moved her tea back a ways. Lifting herself up, she turned to face him completely and tucked her legs beneath her so that she was sitting cross-legged on the table. Always taking liberties, his Belle. Despite his mental grumbles, he arranged himself to match her.

"Well," he clasped his hands before him, "If the answer was yes, then you probably would have been proud and perhaps even a little excited to share with him. If the answer was no, then you would either be too embarrassed or too disappointed to own up to it."

Belle squared her jaw. She was silent for a moment and appeared to be mulling over her next choice of words.

"I've never kissed anybody," she admitted, "Not ever. I thought he'd poke fun." Rumplestiltskin cocked his head to the side in consideration. She had never been kissed, this magnificent being who was certainly the most kissable creature ever created. He wondered at her actions, the ones had translated as manipulation days earlier. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps she simply desired closeness. Friendship, as she put it. Maybe she was just as lonely as he.

For an instant, despite the growl in his center that refused to cooperate with his current meanderings, he thought that William might make use of himself yet. Belle deserved at least one kiss in her life, and she might never again have the opportunity. He was a handsome man; he'd do her justice. And Belle would have at least one fond memory to cling to in the dark.

"What of your betrothed?"

She scoffed, "It was an arranged marriage." She spoke the words as if there was no more to tell, so he stowed away his questions until a later time. He had already pulled more from her than he knew she was comfortable with. Best not to push his luck.

Neither spoke for quite some time. It was a companionable state. When Rumplestiltskin noticed Belle's poorly hidden shiver, he lit a fire from his perch. They enjoyed their tea and the sudden warmth. Then she ducked her head and caught him purposefully in her gaze. Her eyes were bright, wide things that held power. Rumplestiltskin tried to quell the sudden lightness in his abdomen.

He was unsuccessful.

"Do you believe in true love?" she asked, hardly a whisper. Her stare was so direct, searching, as though she thought she could dredge answers from his soul if she willed it. He found no reason to deny her an answer. He wondered, briefly, if that had been the cause of her anger with William. Maybe true love was not something to be teased about in Belle's presence.

"I have lived a very long time, dearie. It doesn't matter if you believe or not. It exists."

Her expression was unreadable. Looking down at her tea again- did she find as much solace there as he did?- her loose hair hid her face from him. Before he knew what he was doing, a scaled hand acted of its own accord and brushed the strands behind her ear. He cupped her face, and his thumb drew small circles on the apple of her cheek. She was so soft. The contrast of his skin against hers enthralled him. Had he the courage, he would have leaned forward then. He would have replaced his thumb with his lips and given the barest hint of a kiss. And he knew, in some place deep and muffled, that she would have allowed him that small gift.

But Rumplestiltskin had no courage, and his fingertips were still caressing her skin. When he finally came to his senses- _how long had he been doing this?_- Belle was beaming at him with a smile that could melt sin. It was too much, alarming almost, and he quickly withdrew. Fumbling with his cup, he held the porcelain before him as he always did. It was a small barrier, but a barrier nonetheless.

"Friends can touch, you know," she said, eyes alight with mischief and something else that he refused to place.

Rumplestiltskin grumbled and drank his tea.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are always helpful, so if you could lend me a hand and give me some feedback, it would be much appreciated. :)**

**Next chapter: Hand holding, blind folds, and a very, very jealous Rumple.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: See Ch. 1**

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! The story is still going strong, but I have to admit that this chapter was by far the hardest to write. Still, I hope you all are pleased with its direction.**

**This is dedicated to all of you who called for more Jealous Rumple. I hope I did him justice.**

* * *

_From "Broken Crown"_

_Touch my mouth and hold my tongue, I'll never be your chosen one  
I'll be home safely tucked away,  
Well, you can't tempt me if I don't see the day_

* * *

Apparently, friends did a lot of things that Rumplestiltskin had previously been unaware of. Friends played chess in front of the fire in the dwindling hours. Friends made quips at the others expense. Friends _touched_. He quickly found himself becoming accustomed to the way Belle's arm felt wrapped around his.

She never shuddered; she never looked at him with disgust, as if she was trying to swallow the urge to vomit at the coarseness of his gold-green skin. Rumplestiltskin relished the feel of her, suppressing the monster inside as he placed his hand about her waist to rest comfortably on her hip.

Friends remembered their promises not because they were debts owed, but because they wanted to help. And so one evening Rumplestiltskin found himself running his fingers ever so gently over a black piece of sash. Such a harmless thing all on its own, lying limply in his hands as he approached the great hall. She would be there, tea at the ready, eying the chess board with a mixture of resentment and determination. He just prayed that the night would not end with her mocking him.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to come," she commented good-naturedly as he entered, smiling down at him from where she sat on the table.

"Yes, well," Rumplestiltskin looked at the silken material again and sighed, "I have a surprise." Belle's face lit up at his words, and in the time it took for him to blink she had all but rushed to him.

"Really? What kind of surprise?" she tried in vain to search his person, circling him. Her eyes did not miss the sash he clutched, and when her gaze reached his she seemed confused but still curious.

Rumplestiltskin circled her in turn, stopping when he was at her back. Taking a step closer, chest pressed lightly against her form, he wrapped his arms around her and placed the blindfold over her eyes. His heartbeat was far too erratic, breath shallow. Belle went stiff for an instant, and he thought he might have to retreat. There were boundaries, after all, and this act was far more intimate than any of the others that preceded it. But then Belle relaxed, body shifting so that she was leaning into him. Rumplestiltskin became even more uncertain, however. He had not expected to get so far without being scolded for his offensive actions, and it was difficult to rally what bravery remained.

Pausing to steady himself, he whispered in her ear, "Always with the questions, dearie." His voice had not faltered, and he was grateful for the small blessing. Trying to clear his mind, he found it to be a far more challenging undertaking than originally planned. Rumplestiltskin's appendages had carried on without his knowledge as he stood in his pensive state. His right arm was gripping Belle's waist, gently massaging her hip. The fingertips of the left were lightly dragging over the bare expanse of skin between the hallow of her throat and her collar-bone. He could hear the faint sound of something between a sigh and a whimper escaping her lips. It was a plea, the revelation of a secret thing that he did not have the courage to ponder.

Focusing on the task at hand instead, it took all of the strength he had to concentrate on bending the world to his will. The ground beneath them shifted, the air stilled. There was a halt in time. When they reemerged from the cloud of purple haze that engulfed them, they were in Belle's bedroom. She gasped, unused to such magical means of travel. Her legs gave out, and Rumplestiltskin had to hold her tightly as she gathered her bearings.

"I'm alright. Can I see now?" she asked timidly. Rumplestiltskin, eager to distance himself from her, tugged lightly at the knot in the blindfold. It fell away, dangling from his grasp, revealing a reflective pool of water and metal crafted in the shape of a mirror. It was a large, sturdy, gilded object. The outline of it shone brightly with evidence of enchantment. He hoped it was to her liking, and he gave a bow and a bit of flourish as she took in the sight.

Yet there was no instantaneous frown or joyous smile. Seconds ticked by. The unreadable mask tortured him. He wished for any hint of a reaction, be it distaste or something more pleasurable. All he saw was the thin line of her lips and wide eyes.

"Belle?" he breathed, a single word that was heavily loaded. Was she angry with him? Did he overstep his boundaries? Was all of this too much?

"I can't believe you did this for me," she finally said, turning towards him. Her mouth was smiling in a way that was unsettling, eyes boring into his with too much emotion. She was all gratefulness and admiration and sparkling blue orbs that pierced to the very heart of him... Rumplestiltskin took a step back. _Why did he keep putting himself in these situations?_

"It was no matter, truly," he croaked, eyes flickering about the room. He needed to escape; he needed his wheel. But Belle, stubborn woman that she was, refused to let him go so easily. She engulfed him in a hug, surrounding him with her skin and her scent and her aura of sickly sweet chastity. He squirmed under the weight of it, wiggled until he was holding her at arm's length and spinning her so that she was once more staring at her gift. Then he took a few paces back towards the door.

Belle peaked at him over her shoulder, huffing a little but giggling just the same. She twirled once, twice. The skirt of her dress lifted and hung on the air as she spun. Rumplestiltskin's breath caught. Before she had the time to protest, he excused himself and darted out of sight.

Friendship was quite the complicated thing, it was.

During the next few days, he also discovered that friends took long walks outside. When she first suggested it, Rumplestiltskin made a mental check mark. His list of proof that this entire... _relationship _was merely some scheme of hers was growing steadily. But, he had to admit, not as steadily as he had expected. When he permitted her to leave the castle- with him by her side, _of course_- she had not once mentioned how wonderful it would be if she could be allowed to stroll about unchaperoned. There were no questions about how large his grounds were, or about the main gate, or if the enchantments placed over the whole of the property kept particular persons from getting out as well as getting in.

No, instead their outings consisted of small trips to the closest gardens, circling the same walks and never venturing further than absolutely necessary while still being able to bask in the splendor of the impending Spring. He was grateful to her for sparing him further spells of paranoia.

There were, however, certain characteristics of friendship that Rumplestiltskin was not so fond of. Confiding, for instance, was a double-edged sword. Some conversations were all banter and revelations of specific preferences. Others were about memories of times best forgotten. They were uncomfortable in a way, for Rumplestiltskin disliked to speak of his past quite intensely. And, it seemed, the more he bristled and dodged, the more curious she became. But there were worse things to speak of. Things he should have anticipated.

"What's this?" he asked offhandedly at the unfamiliar sensation across his wrist when she went to hold his hand as they walked.

"Oh!" her blush was absolutely lovely in the sunlight as she moved to show him the woven bracelet she donned, "William gave it to me."

And with those words, Rumplestiltskin was no longer in the mood for fresh air. He disentangled himself from her, skin burning. His mind buzzed in a flurry of hurt and fear and heart wrenching disappointment. He wondered- no, he _knew_- that these interactions were nothing special to Belle. This was friendship to her. Those touches she shared with William, when they were alone either in his room or wandering through the abandoned areas of the castle, _those _touches were special. They were the ones that caused blushes and tingles and coy half-smiles.

It did not matter that they had shared a stolen moment when he had the audacity to _blindfold _her. _Gods, what had he been thinking? _What Rumplestiltskin and Belle had- he choked at the notion- was _secondary_. He was a friend, and it was so very hard to stand her smiles and nudges when he felt a sinister pain lurking in background, waiting to pounce the moment she reminded him of his status in her life.

After he was finally safely stowed away in the confines of his proverbial cave, he realized that he did not know why he was so staggered by the knowledge that William and Belle's relationship had already gotten to the point of exchanging tokens. It was not as if their growing closeness was a surprise to him. She had recently returned to her chores, and as soon as William was back to his fit state he had offered his assistance. She very nearly swooned and readily accepted, wishing to spend more time with him.

Rumplestiltskin did not know this because he saw the affair. No, he had yet to meet the man-child that was courting his housekeeper. Instead, all of the intimate aspects of their conversations were relayed in excruciating detail by Belle herself.

William had a kind voice. He had a boyish way of joking, making her laugh at the simplest things. And the silkiest hair!- Rumplestiltskin's masochistic side thankfully did not rear its ugly head and demand how she had gained such knowledge. He had apologized for being such a prat that one night. He would never pry again, he promised. And then he had kissed her hand with those soft lips, and Belle had wished him goodnight with an enormous grin. A real gentleman, he was. William, with his thick chestnut locks, strong build, and towering height.

Rumplestiltskin stabbed his pen into the inkwell beside him too roughly, knocking over the bottle and spilling its contents asunder. Black liquid bled all over his parchment, and he growled at the ruined contract.

Yes, Belle and William, he thought to himself. Such the matchmaker Rumplestiltskin was. He might as well have found her contract while he was in the mood to destroy carefully constructed deals. Rip the damn thing in half right in front of her and wish the happy couple many babies.

His feet thundered against the stone floor. He needed to spin. And there was too much _feeling _in his bones to allow him to concentrate enough to magic himself there. He could not remember the last time his emotions had been so high, even when he was still a mere man toiling away at his wheel. There was a twist at his center, and his eyes blazed as he swallowed the sentiment that was attempting to seep towards the surface.

Rumplestiltskin loved nothing and no one but Baelfire, that had been decided too many years ago to change. It was certainly not a pledge he was willing to break for the likes of _Belle_. She was too clumsy and too chatty. When she was nervous she fumbled her words and stuttered her vowels. During their quiet moments in front of the fire, when she was concentrating on the game of chess before them, she had the habit of biting her fingernails. Sometimes- he was still unsure if this was an unconscious tick or a sick ploy to toy with him- she would run her thumb across the seam of her lips.

She laughed at nothing and smiled like she knew his thoughts. She was irritating. And young. A ridiculous slip of a...

The breath knocked out of Rumplestiltskin's lungs as he reached the great hall. There was the sensation of tearing through his chest, and for a moment he thought he might literally be dying.

"Shh! I'm not joking, we need to leave. I promised him I'd keep you out of sight!" Belle giggled, tugging on the fabric of William's sleeve as she made for the exit. William moved to follow, but then his eyes drifted over to the wheel in the corner.

"Is this the infamous spinning wheel?" he asked, the volume of his voice still unchecked as he stalked towards the object. Rumplestiltskin clenched his hands and fought the urge to take the boy by the throat and throttle him. Especially when William had the nerve to sit down and give it a quick spin, as if it was more toy than a finely crafted tool. Belle, at least, had the common sense to give a yelp of horror and rushed to place herself between the wheel and its offender.

"This isn't funny, William," she pleaded, eyes flickering about. Rumplestiltskin stilled even though he knew her human eyes were far from capable of finding him lurking in the shadows.

William stood, pressing forward until Belle was fully backed against the wheel, "Why? What will the monster do if he finds us?"

Belle glared at him, all signs of laughter and affection leaving her as she said in the most deathly serious tone Rumplestiltskin had ever heard her utter, "Don't call him that." She shoved him away, a forceful push with both hands that must have hurt at least a little. Rumplestiltskin took some solace from the action, and from the wounded expression William wore as he followed her out, hand lightly rubbing his chest.

But it was not enough. Rumplestiltskin felt violated, as though his treasured object had been tainted by William's touch. When he was sure they were gone, he raced towards it, gently petting it with his fingertips. They were gentle, comforting caresses; another promise. Never again would William touch his wheel. And if he did, the boy would find himself without hands. To hell with Belle, and to hell with Robin. There was no clause in the contract; the thief was not specific about William's condition upon return.

_The devil's in the details, dearie_.

Rumplestiltskin did not care if his next actions were a punishment for Belle. When she bounced into the great hall that night, he would not be there waiting at the fire. There would be no tea or randomly insightful conversations. But that is not what would grab her attention most. She would stop and stare with dread blooming in her heart as she approached the empty corner, the space that had once contained the beloved spinning wheel. She would shudder, perhaps even blush, and know that he had seen William, seen her, and she would wilt a little.

But knowing her, the stubborn way she viewed the world and all things in it, she would most likely place none of the blame with herself. She would curse William for following her into the great hall in the first place. She would call Rumplestiltskin a coward who had not had the gall to face her. Or, he mused, she might not care at all.

So he carried the blasted thing all the way up the steps to his tower, fearful that he might break it if he simply attempted to transport it with his severely corrupted magic. It was a long, awkward haul. Rumplestiltskin had faltered more than once on the journey, but it only allowed him to savor the victory when he moved the large piece to its final resting place.

He spun well into the night. He spun through the light knocking at his door. He spun until he was no longer haunted by sounds that he managed to convince himself- at least for a little while- were not the sobs of a woman he had procured haphazardly on a deal. A random woman who meant nothing. And during those hours he spent at the wheel, skilled hands doing what they did best, he could not even remember her name.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so soonish there will be a chapter dedicated to Belle and Will (I won't spoil it by giving away too many details). This means there will be a momentary POV change. The question is: Belle or Will? Personally, I think Will would be fun to write. However, I also know that I hate it when I'm reading a story and suddenly the author goes into the POV of an OC that I have zero interest in. The choice is yours, Rumbelle shippers.****  
**

**Reviews are, as always, welcomed and greatly appreciated.**

**Also, please don't judge Belle too harshly. She is, after all, being wooed by a very hot/cold Rumple _and_ the charming William Scarlett (trust me, there will be charm).**

**Upcoming: Angst! Avoidance! A... kiss? Stay tuned. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter had a life of its own. It was **_**supposed **_**to be super angst and sappiness, with a sort of revelation tacked on the end. William and Belle were going to kiss, and I was going to apologize to RockAndAHardPlace and Gracounette for not having the first kiss be Rumple.**

**I blame Robert Carlyle, and the major sex appeal he brings to Rumple/Mr. Gold. Oh, that man is so flippin handsome, I don't care if he's over twice my age...**

**And, most importantly, thank you for your continued support. Your reviews are lovely and make my day.**

* * *

_From "Roll Away Your Stone"_

_But you, you've gone too far this time.  
You have neither reason nor rhyme  
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine._

* * *

Rumplestiltskin ran a steady hand through the fizzy, unruly strands he called hair. He had stepped on more people than necessary today. The once cathartic task was starting to become a bit of a chore. Even as the magic flowed from his fingertips, turning yet another person into an insect- this time a large, horned beetle- he wondered if perhaps he should just leave the thing be. But, he sighed, there was a crowd of horrified onlookers gathering around. Let one poor soul slide and people would think he had gone soft. So Rumplestiltskin crunched the bug under his heel, feeling all too keenly the guilt that washed over him.

_Eh_, part of him shrugged internally, _how many innocents were too many?_ And the first one, the jester who had interrupted the deal Rumplestiltskin was making with Lord Sunshine of Gallantry Land (who could honestly keep track of all the men he dealt with?), had all but asked for it. Making faces behind the Dark One's back, attempting to entertain even though a dreadful hush had descended over the court. Foolish man. It was an unforgivable offense. Even those who had lifted a hand to cover their smiles at the jester's antics had been punished.

So many tiny corpses... Lifting his boot, he grimaced at the sight of the remains. He needed to return to the Dark Castle before the entire hamlet was exterminated beneath the merciless weight of his shoe.

But there was the problem of Belle. He had avoided her like the plague since he huddled himself up in his tower and ignored her pleas for forgiveness. She, in turn, had decided to punish him in her own subtle ways. Just that morning, when Rumplestiltskin had woken and stretched in the morning sunlight, he had taken one glance out the window and been in flabbergasted at what he saw.

Belle and William. Outside. Belle and William were outside. He had wanted to appear next to them, dragging the pair back inside by their ears and tossing William in the dungeon like he should have from the very beginning. Then sit Belle down and have a very loud and most likely less than pleasant discussion about her behavior. There were rules, rules she had promised to obey the moment she signed that damn contract. She had been lucky he was benevolent enough to even allow her to _see _daylight.

Quietly seething, he watched them romp in the grass. William was doing flips, backwards and forwards, some with twists and others with one hand planted firmly on the ground. Quite the acrobat, apparently. Belle stood back and kept her arms folded, the smile pulling at her lips hardly concealed as she tried to hide her enjoyment of the impressive display. When the boy finally stopped, all grins and heavy breathing, Belle motioned for him to give her some room. Running, face determined, she attempted a cart-wheel. It was unladylike, and too much skin was showing as her legs swung over her head. The landing was far from perfect as she lost her balance and toppled to the side to plop face first in the grass. Her skirts were riding obscenely high, and she was laughing so hard her face was bright red.

William, ever the gentleman, offered to help her up. His free hand assisted in fixing her dress, trying to protect her modesty. But Rumplestiltskin saw the way the boy had caressed the soft skin before lowering the material back over it, faking shock as he apologized for the accident.

Rumplestiltskin growled then, a primal sound that in itself angered him further. He needed to destroy something. So he went to the lord whose name he could not find the energy to recall. He made a deal to stop the land's impending raiders, and when he saw the way that clown had mocked him... well, that was when the massacre began.

But now he was tired, and he longed for home. A truth that was becoming very apparent to him with every passing day was that what he really longed for was Belle. Soon enough, he thought, bending the world to his will as he appeared with a hiss in the great hall of the Dark Castle. William would be gone soon enough, and then things would return to normal.

There was the now familiar sound of laughter echoing through the stone walls, bouncing torturously to his ears as he trudged to the kitchen. Another form of punishment that Belle was pressing upon him. She no longer kept William like a pent-up pet. They now wandered the castle unchecked, areas that Rumplestiltskin frequented were no longer safe from their meanderings. Thank goodness they were a loud couple, chattering away over such nonsensical topics. He avoided them easily enough.

Scowling as he brewed his tea, he remembered his mental process when he agreed to save William in the first place. Wasn't he supposed to relish the fact that the boy was keeping his housekeeper busy and in high spirits? That was the plan. But jealousy, it seemed... oh, jealousy was a wretched thing.

"You're back."

Glancing up from his cup, he took in Belle's appearance blankly. She was pink from the sun, hair down and windswept. He fought to keep the words BEAUTIFUL and STUNNING out of his head. Out of habit, his eyes darted to the bracelet on her wrist. It was still there, and the relentless ache in his center twisted just a bit harder.

He needed to get out, but her petite frame was standing right in the middle of the doorway. Her expression was getting crosser and crosser by the second, and he was in no mood to have such a draining confrontation. Not after a long day of committing murders of the most cowardly sort. So he tried to walk around her, past her. He did not imagine that she would have the gall to stop him, impede his path with her small form. Yet that was exactly what she did.

"You cannot avoid me forever," she said. Rumplestiltskin sneered, pressing his face close to hers. If he could not escape, then he was damn well capable of intimidating her. He was baring his teeth and his throat was vibrating savagely. But even that only made her more determined, a vision with her sun kissed nostrils flaring. He moved to step around her, but she was quick and blocked him once more.

"You aren't even going to speak to me?" her voice was breaking, he could see the resolve on her face. The ever tightening ball in his esophagus plummeted to his stomach at the realization that she was struggling not to cry. He just stood there, vaguely aware that had this been months ago he would have revelled in disturbing her with tales of his day's exploits. He would have described the helpless screaming of each of his victim's loved ones as he crushed their transformed limbs beneath his heel. He would have stroked her cheek as he regaled her, frightening her with his words and his touch until his very nearness only served as a reminder of how perverse he was.

The fact that he stayed poised, tight-lipped, was only further proof that Belle was making him weak. And weakness was unacceptable.

"Move," he commanded. Belle shook her head. She did not trust her voice, and the thought only infuriated him more.

"Move, _dearie_, or I will move you," he hissed. She swallowed hard, her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to speak. Her eyes were wild and begging, glistening with unshed tears. Rumplestiltskin felt it again, an emotion that he refused to give any name except weakness, because in reality that was all it was.

Grasping her upper arms with his claws, he turned and thrust her into the door frame. If the force wasn't enough to scare her, his snarl must have ensured it. His body was pinning her to the wood, and his head spun from the rapid closeness. Everything was cloudy haze. His hands were clutching her bare skin, the more delicious parts of her anatomy pressed flush against him. Her head was bent back as she stared at him, their breaths shared gasps.

He watched with a heavy heart as a tear slid ever so slowly down her cheek. She was shaking, her parted lips trembling. Rumplestiltskin's grip loosened, his left hand drawing soothing circles while the right reached up. His thumb dragged along her lower lip, pulling it down gently as he revealed more of her forbidden flesh.

If he didn't know better, he could swear she tilted her head back just a bit more to give him better access as she closed her eyes. He rested his forehead against hers, trying to regain control. Nothing this woman did ever made _sense_.

And then, when he had almost become composed, he felt her move beneath him. His thumb was still pressed against her lip, resting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Belle opened her mouth wider, eyes still shut, moving her bottom lip against him.

All of his anger and frustration was replaced with heat. His Belle was running her lips along his finger, gentle strokes that had her breathing staggered and heart racing. The reactions of a woman who had never been kissed, who was currently sharing with him the most intimate act she had ever taken part in. He was overwhelmed with the sensation, with their proximity. The way he could watch her lips drag painfully slow over the expanse of his thumb, dipping her head a little so that he could feel the scrape of teeth.

This little act was going to change everything, he could feel it in his bones. He had never truly allowed himself to think of her as a lover. Even the word itself seemed taboo in his fantasies. The visions of her in his study reading to him were enough to drive him half insane. Rumplestiltskin dreaded the dreams that would come from this... this...

The feeling of her hot, velvet tongue darting across his skin took him by surprise. Her eyes snapped open, as though she just became aware of her bold actions. He expected her to relinquish him, to turn away bashfully and blush. But she held his gaze bravely, pointedly, daring him to run. He wanted to claim her, to crush their lips together and pull a moan from that teasing mouth.

He wanted to hold her against him and never let go.

"Belle?"

Rumplestiltskin flinched at the sound of William's voice, face suddenly hard as stone. The boy was a confused mess, trying to decipher what exactly he had stumbled upon. The Dark One nearly grinned at that. Rumplestiltskin had been an active participant, and even he was uncertain about what had just transpired. Belle, the soft, sweet, inexperienced temptress that she was, could only stutter a little in explanation.

Lingering over her for a moment longer, he was strangely giddy over being caught in an unmistakably passionate embrace. But then Belle squirmed under the scrutiny of both his darkened eyes and William's questioning stare. The movement nearly made him wince with the sudden burst of electricity shooting through his core.

_Bloody woman was going to _kill _him_.

"Just having a little chat with my caretaker. Is there a problem?" he asked, voice high and playful as he pushed himself away from her. Belle knew him well enough to distinguish the tone as dangerous.

"No problem," William drew himself to his full height, "Just looking for Belle."

He held out his hand, dismissing Rumplestiltskin completely and looking solely at her. The boy was making her choose. And Belle, breathing still heavier than usual and cheeks incredibly flushed, seemed to forget how to use her feet. She looked at Rumplestiltskin hopefully, as if she was waiting for him to do something. Dismiss her, perhaps. Or grab her by the waist and sink his teeth into her flesh, marking her forever as his.

Either way, he wasn't going to move. This was her choice. He wasn't going to make things easier for her just because she found herself at a crossroads.

When she righted herself so she was no longer leaning against the door frame, he tried to not be surprised or disappointed as she took William's hand. The boy gave her a warm smile and entwined his fingers with hers, giving them a soft squeeze. As they walked away, William turned his head back and made sure to grab the Dark One's attention. The expression he wore, the one directed at Rumplestiltskin and Rumplestiltskin alone, could only mean one thing.

_Mine_.

Every muscle in Rumplestiltskin's body was strained as he stood frozen for minutes on end. It wasn't a matter of contracts anymore. Belle was _his_. She was his since he first touched her, since she first beamed at him with that ridiculously enthralling smile.

And he was hers in turn. She had him wrapped around her little finger. She was a damned _force of nature_, she was. He might never admit it, may never say those god-forsaken words that plagued him night and day. But the sentiment was there all the same, beating in that wretched heart he still possessed.

He could see it when he closed his eyes, the possessive glare William threw him as he held Belle's hand, all but shoving it in his face. _It doesn't matter what I just walked in on_, it said confidently, _I'm the one she's going to choose_.

Rumplestiltskin's jaw clenched.

Like hell he was.

* * *

**A/N: As I said earlier, ahem, reviews make my day. It would be nice to hear from you. The story is fighting me. I want angst, my muse wants kisses. It's a battle. ;)**

**Sorry, no preview. This chapter muddled things up a bit for me. I promise one for next chapter, though.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Lyrics included are from "Feel the Tide" by Mumford and Sons.**

**Thank you for your reviews! You guys are amazing, and I hope you know how much I appreciate hearing from you. Sorry for the weird vibe of the chapter. It's been interesting trying to patch up the plot since last chapter decided to take the fic for an unchaperoned spin.**

**Oh, and also, Hatter speaks with a lot of italics. Normally I hate when authors do that, but I couldn't imagine him **_**not **_**speaking with those long, drawn out words. Hope it doesn't annoy anyone. Lol, BTW, Hatter makes an appearance. :)**

* * *

_From "Whispers in the Dark"_

_A brush with the Devil can clear your mind_

_And strengthen your spine  
_

* * *

Rumplestiltskin sometimes regretted being a solitary creature. He had always preferred being alone. Life with his wife had been unbearable. Even before he became lame during the Ogre Wars, Milah's presence was an oppressive, dark thing that suffocated him. Her unhappiness was palpable. Then, when he returned from the conflict a proven coward with a bloodied knee and not a soul to accompany him, her malice only magnified.

Baelfire had made her easier to handle. The woman had bore him a son, a son that he could love whole-heartedly without reservation. He could not hate her as she drank herself into oblivion when her body had provided him with such a precious gift. But Milah's disappearance brought with it a miserable transition. There was no consoling Baelfire. Eventually, though, when the tears stopped and his son no longer perked his ears at the faintest sound near the door, they fell into a simple routine. Just the two of them.

As the Dark One, he lost that remaining tie to his humanity. There was only him, Rumplestiltskin. For a time he fancied making Regina a companion of sorts, when he first met her and she was all embarrassment and apologies. He had wanted to corrupt her very core, to confuse her, to play with her like the toy she was. He enjoyed the manipulations, employing the practiced charms of the Hatter in order to do so. And when Rumplestiltskin's hand brushed hers, causing her face to fall and eyes to shift into a terrified frenzy, he had enjoyed that too.

Sometimes he wondered why Belle was so different. Why did her innocence not bring out his inner demon? The two women would have been quite the pair, royal youths with spark and an unquenchable desire. Regina had something else, though. She had the extra bit of darkness in her veins, intangible yet so very, very easily bent. Breaking her of those barriers of conscience and empathy had hardly been challenging.

He knew he would never try such a thing with Belle. But he also knew, he thought with a grin, that she would have none of it. If he were to show her a horse and offer the world and more if only she would reach in and snake those small, dainty fingers around the beast's heart, his Belle would just stand and glare. Such was the nature of her stubborn, kind soul. Then, with a scornful remark, she would take the horse by the reigns and lead it away from the Dark One. Turn her back on him as if he was not the master of unspeakable power.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. There was no comparing the two, he knew that. Regina was all spite and unchecked destruction. Belle was... was... Belle was gold. She was bright and intense and once one saw her, capturing light and reflecting that goodness on the world... well, there was no going back, was there?

A rapid burst of laughter from below pulled him from his thoughts. Blinking himself back to reality, he wondered what escapades the Hatter was getting Belle into. Restless man could never quite stay by Rumplestiltskin's side during their transactions, at least not once Belle arrived at the castle. Normally such distractions would annoy the Dark One, and he would have forced the Hatter to stay put in his tower until the brew was complete. However, Hatter managed to hate William almost as much as Rumplestiltskin did. Once he had very angrily declared that the boy was "devoid of humor and the absolute worst company", and the statement had made the Dark One soften enough to tolerate his disappearances.

The raucous increased. There was now the sound of Belle and the Hatter singing loudly, their voices mingling into a strangely pleasing noise that made Rumplestiltskin wish he could join in their antics. And then, glancing up from the half-finished concoction on his work table, he decided that there was no reason why he shouldn't.

Bouncing down the stairs, he could hear the song floating to him, bringing a small smile to his face at the sound. "_You and I now, though it's cold inside, feel the tide turning_..." He wondered how they decided that singing would be the best way to spend their shared time. Hatter's idea, no doubt.

As he approached the landing, taking in the sight of them in the great hall, he was most positive that it was Hatter's idea. The pair was dancing, a fast paced waltz that had them skipping about the room with accomplished grace. He quelled the burning in his stomach at the image of Hatter's arm about Belle's waist, his ridiculous movements coaxing out that dazzling smile of hers. It was Hatter, after all. If ever Rumplestiltskin had a friend in the world, it would be him.

"_Instead he runs up to the nearest girl, and he comments on her glorious curls_," Hatter sang lightly, laughter perceptible in his voice. Belle's own curls were twirling in a different kind of dance, and Hatter sacrificed a misstep for the opportunity to take hold of one of the strands. In what Rumplestiltskin guessed was his flirtiest tone, Hatter belted out an octave lower, "_He says, 'Darling come with me. I'll show you a whole new world.'_" And then he winked at her, an over the top gesture as the song ended. Bowing, he removed his dimensional vortex of a hat.

Belle blushed as Hatter pressed a rather long kiss to her hand. His smile was wide and Cheshire. The man never was up to any good. And with the way his eyes flickered upwards, not quite meeting the Dark One's gaze, but definitely indicating that he was aware of his presence, Rumplestiltskin realized that the display was meant for him. Rumplestiltskin huffed. One day Hatter's meddlesome ways would get the best of him.

"I had not realized that you were a singer, Hatter," Rumplestiltskin commented loudly as he descended the stairs towards them, startling Belle so that she wretched her hand from the Hatter's vice grip, "Had I known, I'd have utilized your talents sooner."

"Ah, Rumple, you finally grace us with your presence!" Hatter clasped his hands together with a booming clap, "I take it you have finished with my potion?" Rumplestiltskin flinched at the nickname, scrunching his nose in distaste. He did not miss the way Belle's hand covered her face to hide whatever her mouth was doing.

"Not quite," he flickered his hands about uncertainly, "There are some minor details that need discussing." The Hatter turned at that, attention now fully on the Dark One.

"Details? Then, by all means, let's discuss them," Hatter gave Belle an apologetic glance, "Mind giving us a moment, my sweet Belle? Seems there is business to attend to."

Rumplestiltskin had half a mind to _gently caution_ Hatter that he was a guest in his home, and certainly not at liberty to just dismiss Belle as though he had the right. But Belle was already collecting her things- a few books and the half-eaten remains of a danish- and heading for the door.

"Will you still be taking your tea later," her eyes were full of mirth as she said the next words, "my _sweet _Rumple?" Rumplestiltskin visibly tensed. Oh yes, he and the Hatter had some business to attend to indeed. Nodding, not trusting his voice in its current state- he'd be damned if he squeaked in front of Hatter of all people- he watched as she exited the room with a quiet, joyful energy.

"Finally!" Hatter exclaimed, arms pinching backwards as he leaned back to yell at the ceiling, "I must admit, I had my doubts. You are _such _a difficult man to love."

Rumplestiltskin's brow creased. What on Earth was this madman spewing?

"What _exactly _are you referring to?"

"You and our sweet Belle, of course," he said it as if it was the most apparent thing in the world, "I daresay I'm relieved. Your heart chose well. I dreaded the possibility of popping by one day only to find out that you'd eloped with Regina. Then where would we be? No, Belle is a far, far better choice. Too good for you, of course, but congratulations nonetheless."

Hatter was insane. He was too loud and his tone always carried further than he expected in the corridors. But that was not the problem. The problem was that Hatter had noticed the change between him and Belle.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Rumplestiltskin grumbled, plopping in his chair at the head of the table. Hatter, enthusiastic man that he was, hopped upon the table in a single leap and sat before him.

"You are far too predictable, Rumple," he said, shaking his head disdainfully, "You're quite close to teetering off the cusp into _boring_."

Rumplestiltskin clucked his tongue and took a moment to stare at Hatter. He was the loyal sort, he knew that from the beginning of their rather industrious acquaintance. And, in another move that only made the Dark One like him more- although it was rather begrudgingly- he also hated Regina almost as much as Rumplestiltskin did. Perhaps there was no real harm in discussing such things. The man might prove himself useful.

"What would you have me do? Race to her room and proclaim my... _feelings_?" By the gods, was that word difficult to say. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth as if trying to rid himself of the taste. Hatter rolled his eyes.

"No, Rumple, that is not what I would have you do. But she obviously cares for you. Maybe," his eyes went wide, grin emerging as he rummaged through his many pockets to produce an oversized flask, "Maybe you just need to let _her _do the heavy lifting."

"What on Earth is that supposed to mean?" Rumplestiltskin was not fond of where the conversation was heading.

"Let her be the one to seek _you _out. Let her make the first move since it has become so _painfully _obvious you will not do it yourself." Hatter handed him the container with a flourish worthy of the Dark One.

"And the flask?" Rumplestiltskin asked, shaking the thing to discover there was very little air in it. He frowned. Was the Hatter a drinker? He had never known the man to partake in such things.

"Liquid courage!" Hatter proclaimed, "For the pair of you. Just to loosen things up a bit. You're quite the stiff fellow." Realizing the double meaning of his words, he roared out a laugh. Then, sifting through a few more of his pouches- even delving a hand into his hat a time or two as if expecting it to conjure something useful on the fly- he finally offered up a smallish plush box. Rumplestiltskin lifted the lid. He stared at its contents, back at Hatter, and then again to the contents.

"Do you always carry a seduction kit on your person?" he asked warily, picking up the chocolates for further examination.

"Never know when the occasion will call for it," Hatter jumped from his perch on the table and did a neat spin on his heels, "Now I really must be going."

"What do I owe you for," Rumplestiltskin waved a hand over the items on the table, "whatever this is?" Hatter tsked at him, wagging his finger.

"You owe me nothing. What are colleagues for?"

"Colleagues?" Odd word choice.

"Yes, Rumple, colleagues," Hatter twirled his hat on his fingertips before sending it spiraling to the ground, "Can't exactly be _friends_ now, can it? I perish the thought of word getting out that the Dark One has _friends_." He shivered mockingly. Standing on the precipice of the portal, he balanced himself precariously. "Since you've been too distracted to finish my brew, I'll allow an extra three days before I return to collect it. Be sure it's complete," he gave the toothiest smile before saying in the most congenial tone possible, "Nobody breaks a deal with me, dearie."

And then he jumped, leaving Rumplestiltskin alone with his thoughts, a flask, and a container full of chocolates.

* * *

**A/N: You all know what's coming next. Don't even act like this leaves room for doubt. Input would be very nice, though.**

**Next: Drunken escapades (you don't know how much I wanted to say sexcapades), sweetness, and that moment we have all been waiting for... Don't act like that's a spoiler! I know how much several of you have wanted Rumple to punch William. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, no more previews. I agree with Electryone. I love spoilers. I am the spoiler queen. However, some people just aren't like that, so I'll try my best to keep plot bits to myself.**

**Formetoknowandyoutonot, you made me blush. Yes, Belle is a bit- okay, **_**oooodles **_**more- coquettish than in the show. But this is Robert Carlyle we're talking about. I might be living vicariously through my characters. :)**

**P.S.- Beware writing Hatter scenes. You may find yourself half in love with him by the end of it.**

* * *

_From "Whispers in the Dark"_

_Whispers in the dark,  
Steal a kiss, and you'll break your heart  
_

* * *

Rumplestiltskin poked a piece of chocolate hesitantly, as if the box might snap shut and devour his finger should he prod it too roughly. So far the thing seemed safe enough, but one could never tell with enchantments. He wondered if he had been too quick to trust Hatter in the first place. For all he knew one bite of the sweets would turn him into a goldfish, left abandoned gasping for breath as an oblivious Belle beat carpets outside.

Or it could just be a harmless container. Hatter was a man of magic, and not all enchantments had dastardly consequences in mind. Rumplestiltskin removed the first segment, lifting out the platform of chocolates to reveal the layer beneath. A bundle of strawberries greeted him, their deliciously ripe scent rising to tickle his senses.

The next: cherries. He was definitely seeing a fruit theme. Mouth fixed to the side of his face as he inspected one, picking it up by the stem to hold it closer to his face, he noticed the faint discoloration of orange along the side. Ah, not poisoned then. Poisonous fruit bore no flaws; a dead giveaway of Regina's shiny apples was their abnormally perfect, red, glossy sheen.

On to the following tray, the first lacking any edibles at all. Instead there were ten miniature, white candles. They were such tiny, dainty things. Good for setting the mood, he supposed. Rumplestiltskin was beginning to think the never-ending box might just have a four-course meal and pair of diamond earrings hiding in its depths.

Nine shelves in, Rumplestiltskin was at a complete loss. Items were strewn haphazardly about the table, a chaos of silken robes, culinary delights, various forms of incense, and an assortment of strange objects. When he arrived at the layer containing vibrant, colorful feathers, he slammed the damn thing shut and found himself looking over his shoulder in paranoia. He squeezed his eyes closed violently, willing the pressure to erase the images playing behind his lids.

He could imagine his next conversation with the Hatter.

"Oh, Rumple, how did that little case of chocolates work out? Which was Belle more fond of, the feathers or the leather straps?"

And to think that upon his first scrutinization he had only thought it to be an innocent box of sweets. Never again would he underestimate the Hatter, or just how mad the man was beneath that obscenely large top hat.

It was not as if Rumplestiltskin was ungrateful for the small parcel full of ideas. The Dark One had little practice in the act of courting. His marriage to Milah had been one of convenience, and before that work had always been a more pressing issue than cultivating an amorous relationship. Save for a few romantic gestures in an attempt to appease his wife, Rumplestiltskin had spent no time attempting to gain the favor of a woman.

Scanning the plethora of objects before him, he felt so very out of his element. Suddenly it was not only kissing that worried him- _gods, if only she'd grant him a kiss_- it was the events preceding the kiss. It was the candlelit dinner, the polite conversation...

"What's all this?"

Rumplestiltskin's heart dropped into his stomach. _ Stupid, stupid man_. How could he have managed not to hear her approach? Why hadn't he taken the blasted box with him to his own private quarters? Remembering he could move his feet, he tried to shield the scene from Belle by coming to stand directly in front of her, blocking her line of sight.

"Nothing, dearie. Just Hatter's version of a practical joke," her head darted to try to catch a glimpse of what was behind him, and Rumplestiltskin had to duck to make sure to hold her gaze, "Nothing to concern yourself with."

Belle's eyes twinkled, "What did he do this time?" Rumplestiltskin gave a heaving sigh. Short of hoisting her over his shoulder and dragging her out of the room, there was no way to stop her from seeing the chaotic mess. He might as well blame Hatter while he still could. It was, after all, his fault. Pursing his lips, he flickered his eyes to the left and stepped to the right, allowing her to examine the items for herself.

Her eyes widened, fingers toying with every shelf in turn. At first she only touched the outer rim, dragging each digit carefully against the wood. But after a minute or two, she began to venture further, fingertips dipping into the pools of soft fabric the robes presented.

"He seemed to think that I could benefit from some 'loosening up'," he explained, hoping she would be merciful enough to put the matter to rest. She lifted up the silver flask and gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised. No, Belle never was one to give things up.

An hour later and the pair was seated quite happily on the table, flask a bit emptier, hands flying as Belle attempted to teach Rumplestiltskin how to play Miss Mary Mack. He fumbled often, sometimes on purpose just to feel her grasp his hands as she giggled madly about his lack of coordination, sometimes accidentally when he tried to impress her with his speed. It was a silly game, but it made her glow in the candlelight.

Taking another sip from the silver container, she scrunched her nose and made a choking noise, "That's not getting any easier." Rumplestiltskin grabbed the offensive thing from her grasp and threw back a mouthful before slamming it on the table. The reverberations made the shelves jump a little against the table, and Belle gave him a wide-eyed look before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Come on, Rumple!" she begged, bottom lip jutting out, "Can't we have just a little? I mean, I'd hate to disappoint the Hatter." Rumplestiltskin scoffed, not bothering to correct her use of the nickname. It never did sound quite as bad in her mouth as it did in that dreadful man's.

"And what if it's a trick? Hmm? What if you turn into a... a... llama? What then?" he asked, wondering when he had become so incoherent.

"That's why _I _need to try it first. If something bad happens, you can always fix it," she smiled at him, completely trusting that no matter the situation he would be able to solve it with a wave of his hand. Which, generally, was true. But it was still nice to hear.

"So be it," he grumbled, "Have at it."

And she did. She clumsily tried to grasp at a strawberry only to have the green leaf she was holding tear. The fruit dropped with a bit of a splat and rolled around on the table for a moment before she finally rallied enough of her motor functions to pick it up again by the red flesh. She inspected it with squinted eyes. He couldn't stop himself from mentioning that if they didn't treat the table like a bench she would not have to worry about whether or not the strawberry was still edible. Snapping his fingers, it disappeared from her hand altogether.

"Just grab another one, dearie. I daresay we have plenty."

He watched, mesmerized by the way her mouth encased the next one, teeth piercing the soft flesh. Her eyes fluttered, and she let out a contented sigh. Rumplestiltskin decided then and there he needed to invest in more fruit.

"Here," she held out another strawberry, inches from his face. He blinked at her. Surely she was not trying to _feed _him? At his hesitance, she brought it closer so that there was no doubt of what her intentions were. Rumplestiltskin warily leaned forward and bit into it, feeling utterly ridiculous. Too ridiculous to take another bite. So he moved back and gave her what he hoped was a satisfied smile. Pulling her hand back, she ate the rest of it with two clean snips of her teeth, and set the rest aside.

"What's your favorite kind of fruit?" she asked, popping a cherry in her mouth and giving it a tug to remove the stem. Rumplestiltskin had to fight to speak.

"Peaches," he said, surprising himself, "I've always liked peaches."

She giggled at his answer, "I cannot imagine you eating a peach." Rumplestiltskin pressed a hand to his chest, gasping loudly. Twirling his fingers about, a peach appeared, hanging on the air a moment before he grabbed it roughly and took a large bite. Belle laughed at his antics, taking another swig from the flask before passing it back to Rumplestiltskin. He looked down at his peach, back to the container, and threw the peach over his shoulder as he took a drink.

"What about you, dearie?" he asked, ready to conjure whatever her heart desired.

"I love cherries," she said, mimicking his actions and biting into one, careful to avoid the pit. Rumplestiltskin tried one for himself, rolling the seed around his mouth.

Another hour- or perhaps it was two, he thought uncertainly- and there was hardly any of the swill left. They had moved on to play some sort of questions game that Belle had come up with. She would ask him a question- or vice versa- and if he refused to answer he had to go into the box and use or eat whatever was next in line. He was currently regretting his decision to partake in the activity. Part of him wanted to refuse to keep playing, to run away to his bedroom and lie on the bed in a daze thinking of how lovely Belle's lips were covered in strawberry. Dreaming of what she would taste like were he to dip his tongue into that glorious mouth.

But, for once, reality seemed worth the risk of embarrassment. Because Belle was with him, eyes shining. They were both clad in the odd silk set that was included in the kit. It had been a terribly awkward event. Neither of them had left the room, instead drunkenly turning their backs on one another and promising not to peek as they shed their clothing. Rumplestiltskin was rather proud of himself; he hadn't looked. And when she told him it was okay for him to turn around, she was clad in only a pair of ivory silk sleeping pants and a robe. To his wonderment, he was dressed to match in black.

But now he was glaring at the box, convinced some sort of spell was upon them. She had asked how he lost his wife, and the choice was clear. There was no way he was going to give her the details of Milah's demise, just as there was no way he would ever be honest about Baelfire, or about the fragmented curse stowed away in the tower, or a gamut of other unsuitable topics. No, instead he was going to open that damn box, revealing the feathers he had stowed away there. Hand shaking, he lifted the lid and pulled out a rather long one, bright violet, and Belle had to stifle her giggle with both hands pressed against her mouth.

"Tomorrow morning I am going to destroy the kitchen, you know. It will take you days to clean it up," he threatened, holding the feather towards her as if he was brandishing a sword.

"I'll take my chances," she smirked, "Come now, you must use that." She gestured at the feather merrily.

"Must I?" he asked, tone high, and for once it actually was as playful as he often portrayed it to be, "Must I really?" Rumplestiltskin thrust the feather forward, and she had to scramble to dodge the thing as he attacked. Giving up the fight early, he decided to use it another way.

Tossing the feather up, he pointed a talon in its direction. Instantly the feather went rigid. It gave a nod-like movement in Belle's direction, then swung in the air. Leaving behind a golden trail, it wrote the name _Belle _sweetly before flinging itself back and forth, spinning sparkling trails around Rumplestiltskin and Belle in intricate spirals and delicate loops. After they were thoroughly surrounded by its artwork, it paused. Seemingly tired from its chore, the feather dropped to the table, heaving itself back to the container and lifting its very tip to slam the box closed behind it.

Belle clapped at the performance, face alight with the shining reflections of the magical remnants that clung to the space about them. Rumplestiltskin bowed several times, waving at the invisible crowd of admirers. He needed to do something to distract himself from Belle. She was quite the sight to behold, dressed in white. A vision, in fact. Her laughter, that bloody chime that radiated through his being, was only making matters worse. Rumplestiltskin longed for his tea, for the familiar barrier. But all he had was the flask, and the small dribble of alcohol that remained.

"Your question?" Belle asked, leaning back on the table to admire the dancing illumination, finger reaching out to touch the sparks that spelled her name. Rumplestiltskin stared at the cold metal container in his hand. There was one question he needed answered, one question that begged for a voice as it bounded through his mind like a maddening tendril. He breathed, long and deep, and took another sip of liquid courage.

"Why did..." he paused, swallowing hard before continuing, "Why did you go with William? The other day, I mean." He clasped his hands before him, a poor substitution for the chipped cup. Belle, on the other hand, went completely still. Her hand hung above her mid-air. Rumplestiltskin could hear her take a sharp breath. His eyes darted to the box that lay only inches from him. Would she take the coward's way out? His way?

"I just wanted... I mean, I wasn't sure..." she was floundering, and he sympathized with her trouble finding an articulate way to convey whatever was going on in her head, "I don't know how you feel... how you feel about me. One minute you're holding me and the next you're running away. William is... he's easier. And I didn't know what you thought about me after what happened." She lifted herself upright, searching his eyes. Rumplestiltskin felt the prickle of hope. She needed reassurance. And if she needed reassurance, that meant she must have had feelings as well. Even if it was just an inkling, a hint of what he had growing inside him, he would be content.

Taking his thumb and brushing it lightly over her lips, he tried to give her his truest smile, "I thought you were the most beautiful creature I'd ever beheld." Belle's eyes turned into saucers, glistening in the soft glow. Then something changed. Her expression turned sad, and Rumplestiltskin frowned. He had to resist the urge to catch a glimpse, just a sliver, of what she was thinking.

Focusing on her hands lying limply in her lap, she whispered, "Sometimes I think you only see me as some foolish girl. Just a trinket you picked up and don't know what to do with." Her voice quaked as she spoke, and Rumplestiltskin was overcome with something akin to emotion. A part of him blamed the drink. The rest of him blamed the stunning woman before him whose words were full of hesitance and wavering self-esteem.

Well, he would have to fix that, wouldn't he?

Cupping her cheek with his hand, he lifted her face so that she had no choice but to look at him, "You, my Belle, are more to me than some bauble collected as a fee. You are beautiful, and full of light, and the most captiv..." he stopped speaking. There was something wondrous in Belle's eyes. Something solid and certain. A hot electricity sprouted in the space between them, and he was not sure who started leaning forward first. But as they closed the remaining inches, stopping when they were only a hair's breadth away, he had to hold back a moan at the way Belle caught her bottom lip in her teeth as she gazed down at his mouth.

And then, suddenly, _miraculously_, she was kissing him. Her lips were soft as they captured his, causing his entire body to catch fire with the sensation. Her hands were on either side of his face, as if she was fearful he would try to flee. She needn't have worried; nothing short of Regina bursting through the doors with a pack of wildebeests could pry him from her. There was magic shooting down his spine, the lightness of happiness filling his soul for the first time in too many years to fathom. He moved his mouth against hers in an achingly slow way that tore at his self-restraint. He wanted to pin her to the table, to invade her mouth, lave her neck with his tongue before marking her with his teeth the way he had imagined a few days before.

He had to chastise himself. This was not some wanton woman, this was _Belle_. It as her _first __kiss_- he had to stifle another groan at the thought- and it had to be as special and breathtaking as her books described it.

But it was so very hard to concentrate on Belle's needs, particularly with the way the lightness in his core was expanding outward, curling in on him as if it was alive with... with...

Rumplestiltskin broke the kiss. The gasp that Belle released as she took in the sight of him only confirmed his fear. He scrambled for something, anything. He could feel it seeping from him, his magic- _his magic_- releasing itself from his greedy clutches. Finally his fingers grasped the flask and he exploded every candle in the vicinity to allow him a better look at his reflection in the metal.

Ah, there it was, plain on his face. His _humanity_. Breathing ragged, he felt hopeless and powerless in the face of this new threat. Then, gaze landing on Belle and the _hope _that was so very apparent on her lovely features, he growled.

"Do you know what you've done?" he shouted, violently taking hold of her and thrusting them both off of the table, "Do you know what I could have lost because of you? Do you?"

"Please," she pleaded, trying to touch his face as she began to cry, "I don't understand." Rumplestiltskin sneered.

"Of course you don't. No, this is just you being brave and trying to tame the beast," he hissed the words, shaking her as he pushed her towards the exit.

"I-I don't... Please, Rumple. I-I thought-"

"You thought wrong," he willed his next words to be true as he spat them, "You're nothing to me." Then Rumplestiltskin dragged her trembling frame from the room, and the doors slammed shut thunderously behind them. The bang echoed through the corridors, obscuring the sound of Belle's muted sobs until there was nothing but silence.

The flask was still there when he returned, as were the remains of their night together. Nibbled chocolates, chunks of half-eaten fruit, the magical glittering lights... Checking his reflection again, he released a shaky breath. The image of the Dark One stared back at him. But even with the relief that flooded his system, he still felt the weight of his actions pressing in on him. A haunting scene played out as he looked back at the table. The ghost of her laugh hung in the air, and the sensation of her lips pressed against his in a kiss that was over far too quickly stung his memory.

Rumplestiltskin collapsed into his chair. True love. It was true love; it had to be. The most powerful magic in all the realms, and it rendered him vulnerable mere seconds after it was cast. For the first time in such a long time, he was properly terrified.

But Belle was in the dungeon.

Belle was in the dungeon, and he was _safe_.

Seeking out his reflection again, he did not care about the future. He could not bring himself to ponder what he would do with Belle now that she was locked up tight. The only thing that mattered, the only thing he could contemplate, was that ghastly image in the make-shift mirror. He cradled the flask in one hand and his head in the other, eyes darting back to his reflection every few minutes for proof that he had not reverted back to his weak, crippled self.

Once again he was alone, the Dark One. As he replayed the night's events in his mind, he tried to convince himself that he was beyond absolution. Beyond caring.

He tried to convince himself that he was beyond the power of true love.

And even as he cowered in the shadows like the imp he was, he knew that he was lying.

* * *

**A/N: So... sad Rumple. Very sad Rumple. Let me know how you feel about this little piece. I had some trouble with the dialogue- Rumple is the hardest character to get right as far as that's concerned. Also, I apologize for the lack of punch. It may or may not come up next chapter ;)**

**Until Tuesday, my friends. Have a great weekend!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This is where things go completely AU. As if we weren't there already ;). While Rumbelle is my OTP, Hatter is my guilty pleasure. I'm adding some back story for him. I know that he technically went crazy after he was trapped in Wonderland, but I'm pretty sure he was a bit mad before that. Mad enough to deal with Rumple, at least. Hope everyone is okay with my characterization.**

**On to the Q&As-**

**dreaming of ravens at night: Yes, this fic was named after the song "Not With Haste" by Mumford & Sons. :) I adore it and think the last line pretty much embodies Rumbelle (or at least the Rumbelle I'm portraying in this fic).**

**jenniferburns370: I apologize for not being clearer about William. He has never been allowed to wander about by himself. Even when Belle was being rebellious he was only ever allowed to be out of his room with her as a chaperone. The only time we see him by himself is when he stumbles in on the Rumbelle moment in ch. 6. That is only because they were already meandering through the castle when Belle abandoned him in search of Rumple (I probably should have explained that better instead of hinting). In general, though, Will doesn't go anywhere without Belle with him.**

**Formetoknowandyoutonot: You know Rumple is suave on the dance floor. :) We might see some of that, just not so close to Belle's scene waltzing with the Hatter.**

**And now, the story. Enjoy...**

* * *

_From "The Cave"_

_But I will hold on hope,_

_And I won't let you choke __on the noose around your neck_

* * *

Three days later and the inevitable happened. Hatter was clenching his jaw as he sat opposite Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One had never seen him angry before, and if the occasion was not an urgent one he would have taken some pleasure in the sight. The man's teeth ground, his nostril's flared. Even his bloody hat quivered in anticipation, glowing just a little, ready for whatever duty the Hatter required of it.

"So, she's in the dungeon," he said slowly, taking a steadying breath, "She is _still _in the dungeon."

Rumplestiltskin wondered if he was purposely being thick. Of course she was still in the dungeon. He hadn't known what to do with her after his initial fit. He couldn't bare to face her; even her food was magicked to her with the wave of his hand and a heavy heart.

"Yes, she's still there," he said, each word punctuated in his most garish tone.

"And the boy?" Hatter asked, tone relatively stable even though he was nearly shaking with some emotion that Rumplestiltskin was certain might be comparable to rage.

Ah, the boy. Rumplestiltskin tensed at that. William had confronted him, searching for his missing Belle the day after her imprisonment. There had been words exchanged, a punch thrown. Silly boy thought he could best the Dark One in physical combat. After avoiding the blunt of William's violence, he had enough. He had tried to be merciful. Rumplestiltskin was, after all, the fiend in all of this. But one could only withstand so many insults, dodge so many attacks, before losing patience. Appearing behind him, Rumplestiltskin had bashed his head against the nearest wall, effectively knocking the boy out.

"He's in the dungeon as well," he murmured, half into the taloned hand that was currently coddling his head.

"What?" Hatter pressed, eyes squinting as he leaned forward to hear.

"He's in the bloody dungeon as well!" Rumplestiltskin snapped. He couldn't have the boy wandering about the castle with vengeance on his mind, could he? And without Belle around to keep him under check, who knew what sort of damage he could do to the Dark One's collection of valuable objects. Although, Rumplestiltskin had to admit, he had not necessarily been delicate about the matter. He had enjoyed grabbing William's ankle, digging in his nails as he dragged the boy down to the lower levels. The smacking of William's head against the stone stairs was almost drowned out by the sound of Rumplestiltskin whistling merrily the entire way.

There was no doubt that if Rumplestiltskin told Hatter this under different conditions, the man would have appreciated the details. He would have clapped the Dark One's back and given him the congratulations of a job well done.

As it was, Hatter was in no mood for such things. In fact, Hatter was laughing. And it was not the laugh of a friend or colleague or whatever the hell it was they were. It was an unnatural sound that sent an eerie sensation down Rumplestiltskin's spine. It was a bit of _the _Hatter- the _Mad _Hatter- a character the Dark One had not seen in decades.

"I see," Hatter licked his lips, "I hope you at least placed them in the same cell and threw in a blanket. It's a good thing I hadn't demanded you release her at once; I might have walked in on them making love on the gravel fl-"

"Enough!"

"No, it's not enough, Rumple. I realize that we are not friends, but if we were I would be well within my rights to call you a damned fool!" Hatter yelled, glaring at Rumplestiltskin, "Today is the boy's release date! If you had only controlled your temper, everything would have fallen into place. You would have had Belle all to yourself with no William in sight. And now they're locked in the dungeons together, with him most likely sprouting sonnets and promising his undying affection. What a mess!" He huffed, sagging into his chair.

Rumplestiltskin knew that, of course. He had been longing for this day, and now that it was here it was spoiled by the circumstances surrounding it. Robin was late. Robin of Locksley was late, and he had half a mind to send the thief an arm- not _William's_ arm, of course, he hardly needed Belle to witness _that_. Any arm would suffice, and perhaps Robin would appear at his gate just a tick sooner.

"What will you do with her?" Hatter asked, frowning at his hat as he toyed with the brim. Rumplestiltskin grumbled. He did not want to take counsel with the man who he still considered at least partly to blame for the entire situation. But he did not have the strength to deny him an answer, especially when he was so uncertain himself.

"I don't know. Release her, maybe. Let her wander back to her father in the northern regions," Rumplestiltskin's face fell. It was one thing to contemplate Belle no longer being in his life, but it was quite another to vocalize it. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"Come now, Rumple. You can't be that thick," Hatter pursed his lips, "They're a superstitious lot. I've seen them burn women at the stake for less. They'll accuse her of having a demonic spawn growing in her belly the moment she shows her face." He chewed his lip. Rumplestiltskin's eyes bore into the man's forehead, demanding answers. He caught a glimmer of a thought, an image.

Belle was carrying a tattered platter with tea, setting it on the rickety table that Rumplestiltskin had seen only once before. She was in Hatter's cottage. The man himself was seated next to her, tugging her waist so she fell unceremoniously into his lap. She laughed, stroking the bridge of his nose in a sweet gesture. Resting her forehead against his as they sat there, simply content, she whispered something soft and intimate. Hatter's hand was rubbing gentle circles into her back, hand straying lower, lower. Belle's eyes closed, and she let out a breathy gasp as Hatter leaned in, lips parted, fingers splayed on her upper thighs as he gripped...

Snapping out of the haze, Rumplestiltskin found himself being stared at rather pointedly by the Hatter. The Dark One seethed. He _hated _being toyed with. The image had been a concoction; clever Hatter had known he would not be able to resist a glimpse.

But there was something else there. Something real. Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed as he searched for the one bright, solid truth in the fog. And when he finally caught hold of it, he blanched. It was the intention, the urge to have Belle for himself, if only as a companion.

"You cannot possibly be considering taking her," the words toppled out of Rumplestiltskin's mouth before he knew he'd given them breath. Hatter smiled toothily.

"Why not? You've made it perfectly clear that you have no intention of keeping her. And, as you know, I'm half in love with her already," he chuckled, smirking as Rumplestiltskin's mouth gaped.

"She is not an item to be traded amongst... _colleagues_," Rumplestiltskin spat.

"She isn't, is she? No, she's just an item that can be thrown away the moment her presence becomes less than convenient."

"This is not about _convenience_, this is about power. A power that I almost lost!" Rumplestiltskin's voice boomed, echoing in the castle, a force in and of itself. Just the _thought _of what almost happened had his heart racing, breathing chaotic as he panicked. He could remember the light, the ache of the Dark One being torn from his soul and being replaced with _love_. Repulsive, cursed thing that it was. As if love could shoulder mountains, transform worlds. Love was worthless, paltry in the face of the greater scheme. No matter its purity- no matter how easily it could bend him and destroy everything the Dark One had built- its magic was still second in comparison to something as seemingly insignificant as a single bean.

Hatter softened as he watched the display of emotion. He stood abruptly and strode to where Rumplestiltskin was seated. Crouching next to him, he removed his hat from his head and held it before him as he smoothed a hand through his shock of hair. "I know what finding Baelfire means to you," Rumplestiltskin flinched, and Hatter continued on quickly, "And I regret, old friend, that I was not able to help you all those years ago. But do you really think punishing Belle is the best solution? This is _true love_, Rumple. It's not some trick, it cannot be duplicated by a curse or enchantment. You. Love. Her. And she loves you in turn."

Rumplestiltskin did not know what to say at that. He wondered what the Hatter's motive was, why he cared so much that he found happiness with Belle. Then a wave of guilt came over him. It stilled his malice and tendency towards paranoia. Hatter could never be so manipulative as to use his love for Belle for his own means.

Long ago, Rumplestiltskin had come to him after he first learned of the top hat's existence. Doing what he did best, he threatened Hatter with his magic and tempted him with deals a plenty. Hysterical laughter was all that greeted him after each meeting; Hatter would have none of it. He truly was as mad as the stories claimed he was. He had chuckled with mirth and raised his eyebrows with gleeful surprise as Rumplestiltskin snarled in his face, all to no avail. It seemed Hatter was beyond persuasion and intimidation.

But in a fit of weakness, the Dark One had opened himself to the man, to the creator of portals, and explained his plight. There was a son, a separation. Hatter's devilish expression fell as he listened, face turning into an emotionless mask. The moment he finished his tale, Hatter threw his hat to the ground, slapped Rumplestiltskin's back, and shoved him in to the abyss without warning.

It was fruitless, of course. The hat could not transport them to a land without magic, but that did not mean that the Hatter stopped searching. No, he scoured the land for a way to Rumplestiltskin's missing son, expecting nothing in return for his toils. And now he was squatting next to him, all sympathetic eyes and sensible wisdom. A man who understood the beast for what he was: a desperate man clinging to the hope of finding his child by any means necessary.

"I have no use for true love," Rumplestiltskin finally said, breaking the silence. Of course that was not entirely true. True love was pivotal to what he had planned, but it was not _his_ true love.

Hatter rolled his eyes, standing with an exasperated groan, "It's a _gift_, Rumple. Give her a chance. You're all about technicalities. I'm sure you'll find a way around the kiss." He placed the hat back on his head roughly with his characteristic, wide grin. "Enough of this! William has quite over stayed his welcome. I say we bring the bastard to Robin."

Rumplestiltskin cocked an eyebrow, "We?"

"Aye," Hatter gave his best impression of mock seriousness, "I hear there are all sorts of dark things in those woods. Imps and tricksters abound." He wiggled his eyebrows. Rumplestiltskin almost smiled at that. And at that point, an almost smile was the most one could hope for. The sentiment was crushed, however, the moment he realized what fetching William meant. It meant going to the dungeons and seeing Belle. He did not know what to expect. Would she cry as she had that night? Would she spew hatred and venom at his very nearness? His heart clenched, he began to panic again.

"I still have some things to finish here. You grab the boy, and I'll meet you in the foyer," he prayed Hatter would leave it be and let him have this. Thankfully after a moment's hesitance, he nodded.

"Don't forget my potion," Hatter reminded him, exiting the room swiftly and making sure to close the door behind him. Rumplestiltskin let out a long breath and tried to let the stress steep from his bones. The confrontation with Belle could wait. The idea of never having to see William's face again was a reward in itself. He would hold onto that as long as possible. And when he returned... well, then he would deal with the consequences of his actions.

Just a few more hours of procrastination. A few more hours to ready himself before he saw her again. His Belle. His _true love_.

Rumplestiltskin fell into his chair and buried his face in his hands.

Gods help him.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this little interlude before we get back to the Rumbelle. Let me know what you think, and I'll answer any questions you shoot my way next time. Much love!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Spoilers for "Into the Deep": First, because I am such a complainer... was that last episode extremely disappointing to anyone else? I was looking forward to the hamburger scene for such a long time and then... bam! Nothing! Well, at least not as much as I had hoped. Just... sigh.**

**A/N: Sorry about the lack of posting last Friday! I didn't have time to write, darn holidays. And now I have to take another break. I'm flying across the country for family business, so the next post won't be until next Friday... Dec. 7th. Hope you can understand!**

**Um... so, my characterization of Belle is a bit different from what's portrayed in "Skin Deep". I think it's justified, given the different situation in which the kiss/imprisonment happened, but I know some people might be peeved. I thought I'd give fair warning.**

**Introducing the first of at least two Florence and the Machine chapters. I love these songs with a vengeance. I am sure Mumford & Sons will forgive the hiatus.**

* * *

_From "__Breath of Life"_

_I was looking for a breath of life  
A little touch of heavenly light  
But all the choirs in my head sang, no..._

_But I needed one more touch  
Another taste of heavenly rush  
And I believe, I believe it_

* * *

Rumplestiltskin tried to appear as impassive as possible as he stood before the iron door, hand twitching as it fluttered uncertainly about the lock. He had done everything possible to delay the task of releasing Belle. He had attempted to make a journey out of finding Robin, but as it was the buffoon was merely lost in the woods right outside the castle doors. The entire transaction was carried out swiftly, although William seemed far less than pleased with the entire venture. It wasn't as if the boy's opinion meant anything at all to the Dark One, but there was something unsettling about the amount of sheer hatred in his gaze. Hatter disappeared into the trees directly after, only offering a few jovial words of encouragement as a goodbye.

In the end, beyond twiddling his thumbs, spinning, or concocting some unnecessary potions, there was nothing left to do but face the daunting task of trudging forth into the depths of the castle. He cleared his throat and attempted to steady his breathing. Tugging gently at his leather vest, he decided to take a step back from the door. His heels clicked harshly against the stone, and he realized rather late that she must have known about his presence outside of her cell for some time. He glared at his shoes; it was obviously too late to back out.

Waving his hand over the lock, the door sprung open. He had to brace himself at the sight of her, huddled in the corner. When her gaze lifted, she was staring at him with eyes that held none of the fire he was expecting. They were cold, distant... _tired_.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, and his heart hurt at the sound. What was he going to do to her? _What was he going to do to her?_ Rumplestiltskin frowned, wondering what exactly she had been pondering during her imprisonment. Had she thought he was capable of harming her? For a time he had considered telling her to go, wanting to forget she had ever existed at all. But the question she asked assumed something far darker. He was a cruel being, that much was true, but not with her. Never with her.

"I-" he swallowed and blinked with more force than necessary, "I may have overreacted." He wanted to reach for her, to hold her in his arms and beg her forgiveness. Of course he could not, would not. It was not in his nature to give into the emotion, the _love_, he harbored.

She stilled before she took in a deep breath and stood, "Hatter explained. Some of it, at least." Rumplestiltskin was in awe at the hardness of her. It was so unlike her to be unfeeling, to be statuesque and clipped with her words. It threw him. Everything was off-balance. At some point Belle had become the center of his world, and with her change in demeanor everything seemed to tip from its axis.

"I see," he searched for the words, but found himself scrounging at nothing but useless questions, "Then... then you understand what happened?" Belle's hands were limp at her sides, not a single finger curled. She was just _there _in front of him, just standing there, and it worried him.

"Yes," her gaze dropped to the ground as she said it. She clenched her jaw, the only visible sign that their conversation affected her at all.

Rumplestiltskin had to remember how to act based on feeling. It was difficult, after so many years of hiding his weaknesses. Putting everything on display was something he never did well, and he was deeply out of practice. He reached forward, taking one of her hands in his. Her fingers were shockingly cold, and he mentally chastised himself for not taking better care of her.

"You deserve better than being forced to sleep in this squalor," he cupped her cheek with his free hand and hissed at the chill, "You're freezing, Belle." He quickly withdrew from her and removed his cloak. Draping it around her shoulders, he took hold of her arm and gently pulled her toward the door. "Come now, we must get you to a fire."

She did not move. She just stared at him, her empty, hollow eyes overcome with confusion. "I-I don't... I thought... I thought you said that I was nothing to you. Why do you care if I freeze?"

Rumplestiltskin's tongue became thick in his mouth. He thought back to that night, to the exquisite feeling of being home that came to him with the slightest touch of her lips. And then his shouting. The way he had become violent, shoving her fragile form into the dungeon as she wept and whimpered beneath the grip of his rough, taloned hands. His gaze drifted to her arms. His chest lit, a hatred for himself burning red-hot at the thought of her delicate skin being bruised by his monstrous behavior.

Yes, at some point he had told her that she meant nothing to him. But she had to know- his _clever _Belle- that all of it had been a rouse. That he had been too full of anger and fear to judge the situation logically. She, of all people, knew what true love meant, what power it held. She had to know that he _loved _her with every ounce of his being.

"_Belle_," he whispered, lightly trailing his fingertips down the side of her face. She held his gaze, but it was different from before. She was not doing it because she wanted to, or because she was curious about his actions. This was not the Belle who revelled in his affectionate touches. This was... was...

He had to hold back the emotion threatening to tear through his core, fighting to escape his throat in the form of a choked sob.

This was something done out of bravery.

A powerful shot of electricity hit his stomach and splayed throughout his body in spidery shockwaves of pain. Suddenly he felt the urge to hold her in his arms, to kiss her long and hard, and wait to see if he felt that same lightness of being. Because somehow, in the very pit of him, Rumplestiltskin _knew_ there was a possibility that nothing would happen at the contact. A chance that there would only be this empty Belle, with her hollow eyes and hollow words. A chipped Beauty and her cowardly Beast.

Rumplestiltskin did the only thing he could do. He gently wrapped his arms around her and magicked her to her room. He held her as loosely as possible as she regained the ability to stand. The fire was lit quickly with the snap of his fingers, and he soon had her bundled before it in the large, plush chair she often read in. It was her favorite, he knew, and he wondered haphazardly if she would recognize the effort.

"Belle," he said, wanting to tell her everything he was thinking. He felt compelled to explain his actions, to convince her that he was more than some imp who could not control his temper.

He had to will her to keep loving him.

So he knelt on the ground at her feet, chest pressing lightly against her knees. Belle glanced down at him from where she sat. He did not miss the way she leaned forward a little, feet shuffling a few inches on either side of him. Rumplestiltskin had never been anything but a coward, but he knew that he would have to fight the impulse tonight. He remembered the lovely way she had put it what seemed like lifetimes earlier.

Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.

"True love is the most powerful magic in all the realms. It's a rare, magnificent thing to behold. True love's kiss is so strong, it's the only way that currently exists- short of killing me- that can rid me of this curse," he offered her a small smile and watched as her barriers withdrew just a little in return.

"You need it. You need the curse," she realized, voice sullen. Rumplestiltskin nodded.

"Yes, I need it. It's a part of me now. And the thought of losing it was so difficult to bear that I lashed out at you the moment I realized what was happening when we... when we... kissed," the word was so hard to say. He swallowed, heart beat speeding up automatically at the thought. He wondered, and not for the first time, how it was possible that such an amazing woman as Belle came to love him.

She seemed to have returned at least partially to her normal self. He wasn't sure if it was the fire or the turn of the conversation. Her back was not as rigid as it had been, and her lips were no longer pursed into a straight line. They sat in silence for a time. Rumplestiltskin saw the emotions flicker over her face as she considered her next words. Her mouth opened once, but it was to no avail. It appeared that neither of them were quite up to the challenge of bridging the gap. When she finally did speak, it was hesitantly. Her eyes didn't meet his.

"But..." she paused, brows pinching together, "But you do love me."

Rumplestiltskin was not sure if it was a question or a statement. Her tone left enough room to interpret it as either. His left hand reached for hers, and this time there was no resistance as he laced their fingers together. This was it, his moment to prove that he was worth a damn to this beautiful creature. He refused to fail her.

"Yes. Yes, I do," the words slipped from his tongue, and he let out a shaky breath as he waited for her response. If she concentrated, Rumplestiltskin was sure she could hear his heart beating. After what felt like an eternity, she finally met his gaze. Her hand lifted and caressed his cheek. Leaning into her touch felt natural. Warmth spread through him at the contact, and he wondered how he could ever have imagined that denying such a thing was even possible.

"I love you, Rumplestiltskin," she said it as though there had never been any doubt, as if it was not her first proclamation of the feeling. But perhaps she thought he already knew. True love's kiss, after all, required that both parties be beyond adoration or some fleeting romance. It was beyond manipulation. True love was the magic of two souls being forever entwined. The bond of two people destined to bask in an eternity of love in its purest form.

Having that knowledge, though, being aware of it was nothing compared to the utter rush of joy at hearing the words for himself. He had no idea how he could ever have doubted her, especially with the look she was casting his way. And then he realized that he, too, was smiling. A foolishly large smile that hurt his cheeks and strained the muscles in his mouth.

He kissed her hand. It was a slow, calculated kiss. A test to see if it would trigger something great and terrifying within him. The seconds lapsed upon one another with no change. Glancing at his arm, at the scales that greeted him and the nod of affirmation that Belle gave at his questioning expression, he decided then and there what his next course of action would be. He sat back on his haunches, grinning at her as boyishly as possible before diving in.

He kissed every part of her that he could reach. He kissed her hand again, trailing his lips up her arm, the crook of her elbow, the bare expanse between her shoulder and neck. He kissed her jaw line, her eyelids, her forehead. He peppered her with kisses on her cheeks, daring to leave the barest hint of a peck at the corner of her mouth before dropping his lips lower to continue a path to her throat.

He stopped the minute her innocent giggles were replaced with a moan that stirred things in him that were far more advanced than necessary. There was time for that later. For now, he needed to remain as in control as possible of his urges.

They were both left laughing and breathless from his ministrations. Belle cradled his head in her hands, kissing him in turn. First his forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. Sweet, fleeting sweeps of her lips against his skin that had him wishing that he could kiss her properly, just once more. Removing himself from her grasp, Rumplestiltskin rested his forehead against hers, allowing himself one more quick press of his lips against her temple before he stilled himself. One hand was bracing him against the back of the chair, the other tangled in her soft waves.

What a ridiculously blessed monster he was.

"I wish I could give you everything you deserve, Belle. I wish you could have a True Love that you could at least kiss when you-" he was cut off by her finger against his lips.

"Don't you dare, Rumple. Don't you dare taint this by saying something negative. I love you, and you love me. That's all that matters." She pressed four fingers flush against his mouth and kissed the back of them.

Rumplestiltskin was certain he fell in love a little more, if that was even possible. He needed to hold her, the distance between them a tangible thing that made him ache. Sweeping his arms around her back and beneath her legs, he lifted her just enough to slip into the chair next to her. Belle curled into him, head buried in the crook of his neck. Rumplestiltskin massaged the back of her calf in his lap as he held her. Unable to help himself, he also placed a brief kiss in her hair.

It was the strangest thing, to be overcome with happiness. It was exhilarating and frightening. Because all of a sudden, he had something very precious and very fragile as a weakness. His power was one thing. It was rooted inside of him, a force in its own right. But his Belle... He tightened his grip around her, and she sighed contentedly against him.

Shaking his head silently, he had no idea how such thoughts could come to him when he was holding an angel in his arms. Settling in, he allowed himself to become encompassed by everything Belle. The way her body pressed against his, conforming to fit his shape in the chair. She lacked her usual fragrance of tea, and he made a mental note to make sure he made her a special cup first thing in the morning. His mind wandered, he played the events of the day over in his head. A question tugged at him until he was too curious not to ask.

"What did Hatter say to you?"

"Hmm?" Rumplestiltskin nuzzled her hair and kissed the crease between her brows just because he could. Belle was obviously tired, a yawn escaping her before she had the chance to cover it.

"What did Hatter say? You said he explained things."

"Oh, that," he could hear the smile in her voice, "He called you an idiot. He said that you cared for me, but that if you did something rash I should meet him at the gate."

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. Ridiculous man and his ridiculous plans. Let him stay out in the cold all night waiting for Belle. Meddlesome creature. No doubt he would be paying the couple a visit soon, boasting about how his inspirational speech had led to the happy union.

Belle let out another yawn and stretched a little, arching into him as she did. Biting his lip to bring himself back to his senses, Rumplestiltskin took a moment to appreciate the view of his love cuddled on his lap half asleep.

"Come now, dearest. Time for bed." He lifted Belle in his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck with a breathy giggle.

"Not yet," she complained, "Not unless you stay with me. I'm not ready to let you go." He understood the feeling. Any kind of separation seemed completely unfathomable at this point. Unfathomable but necessary. At least for now.

"Not tonight. You need sleep," he placed her in the bed, and she grumbled as he tucked the blankets around her dainty form. But the moment she placed her head on the pillow she stopped protesting. Rumpelstiltskin stole one last kiss to her forehead.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too," he replied, "Goodnight, my Belle."

He snuck away as quietly as possible. He felt too alive to sleep. For the first time in recent memory, he felt happy. Cheerful, blissful, revived. And when he sat down at his spinning wheel, after a quick check to ensure there were no secret onlookers, he hummed to himself as he worked. It was some random tune that he could recall his mother singing as she bustled about doing chores when he was only a young lad. He wondered idly if Belle would enjoy the lullaby.

Rumplestiltskin smiled and began to hum louder. Maybe tomorrow he would sing it to her.

* * *

**A/N: Ah! The fluff! I hope this was satisfying. Dear goodness, we needed some romance. Please review! Let me know how it went. I promise to have another big chunk of Rumbelle goodness for you on Dec. 7th. :)**


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